I'm just another body down
Internal bleeding 'round and 'round

And all I can think of are ways to die alone
And all I can think of are ways to die alone

A portrait of my skeletal gain
Left selfish and hungry, so feed me the pain
Escape reality with new pain
Then let the cycle start again

And all I can think of are ways to die alone
And all I can think of are ways to die alone

Dream of content, a pain filtered farm
All I can say

Dreams are bad
When all they do is leave the truth behind
Dreams are bad
When negativity's a state of mind

Dreams are bad
When all they do is leave the truth behind
Dreams are bad

In taberna quando sumus
non curamus quid sit humus,
sed ad ludum properamus,
cui semper insudamus.
Quid agatur in taberna
ubi nummus est pincerna,
hoc est opus ut queratur,
si quid loquar, audiatur.
Quidam ludunt, quidam bibunt,
quidam indiscrete vivunt.
Sed in ludo qui morantur,
ex his quidam denudantur
quidam ibi vestiuntur,
quidam saccis induuntur.
Ibi nullus timet mortem
sed pro Baccho mittunt sortem:

Primo pro nummata vini,
ex hac bibunt libertini;
semel bibunt pro captivis,
post hec bibunt ter pro vivis,
quater pro Christianis cunctis
quinquies pro fidelibus defunctis,
sexies pro sororibus vanis,
septies pro militibus silvanis.

Octies pro fratribus perversis,
nonies pro monachis dispersis,
decies pro navigantibus
undecies pro discordaniibus,
duodecies pro penitentibus,
tredecies pro iter agentibus.
Tam pro papa quam pro rege
bibunt omnes sine lege.

Bibit hera, bibit herus,
bibit miles, bibit clerus,
bibit ille, bibit illa,
bibit servis cum ancilla,
bibit velox, bibit piger,
bibit albus, bibit niger,
bibit constans, bibit vagus,
bibit rudis, bibit magnus.

Bibit pauper et egrotus,
bibit exul et ignotus,
bibit puer, bibit canus,
bibit presul et decanus,
bibit soror, bibit frater,
bibit anus, bibit mater,
bibit ista, bibit ille,
bibunt centum, bibunt mille.

Parum sexcente nummate
durant, cum immoderate
bibunt omnes sine meta.
Quamvis bibant mente leta,
sic nos rodunt omnes gentes
et sic erimus egentes.
Qui nos rodunt confundantur
et cum iustis non scribantur.

I got up this morning
And I put on my shoes
I tied my shoes
Then I washed my face
I went to the mirror
For to comb my head
I made a move
Didn't know what to do
I tipped way forward
Got to break and run

Baby, this ain't me
Baby, this ain't me
Got so ugly I don't even know myself

I left Angola
1964
Go walking down my street
Knock on my baby's door
My baby come out
She asks me who I am
And I say, honey,
Don't you know your man?
She said my man's been gone
Since 1942
And I'll tell you Mr. Ugly,
He didn't look like you