Sitting around here with nothing to do. It's wearing me down dear, just thinking of you, how it's been so long since I held you close, how things could go wrong when I need you most. My devotion is an ocean of uneasiness, distraction, worry, grief and stress.
For love is sadness. Love is madness. Love is thinking if I make it through this hell on earth, it might be worth it. Who needs happiness? I'd rather have you.
Roaming these hallways with dreams unfulfilled-- why do they always seem so uphill? A happy existence of peace and goodwill, me on assistance and you on the pill: is that so wrong? But no one sees it my way. "Get a life" is what they say.
Well, I'm all spent, all sentimentally retarded now, you know it's true. I may have shot what life I've got, but I don't want a life, I just want you.
I just want you to be with me here, and I don't care much if it's not such a good idea. If falling short of happy is the best that we can do, who needs happiness? I'd rather have you. Who needs happiness if I can't have you, too? If it's true that I have to choose between the two, who needs happiness? I'd rather have you.
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