Now, this will be the last bitter song

It will be my last, real bitter song about you



From now on, I'll write about flowers and butterflies

Chickens and kittens and shit

From now on, I'll try to look myself in the face

From now on, I'll try to find someone who knows I exist



so I won't have to feel like I do

when I write my bitter songs

This is my last real bitter song

about you



I won't have to mention she was blonde and thin

with a peanut for a brain and volleyballs for chest

I won't have to mention: that's always what happens

when you leave him your key, he ends up having sex in your apartment with miss Non-Bitterness



So this will be the last bitter song

I'm feeling cheerful already

I'd like to break his neck, if I may



But most, I'd like to cut off that hair

and cut off that head

and cut off those volleyballs



And I hope her heart gets broken

And I hope she turns bitter, really really bitter

like me