Punched another hole in the wall
Bloody knuckles. You stupid f*ck.
Sick to bastard death of the sleepless nights
And falling apart at the smallest slights
F*ck this miserable winter
This bitter cold is killing me
At least the days are getting longer
Don't think I'Il last another week
Have to wear gloves to guard from the cold
Can't let them see these hands
Worked to the bone
Skin is cracked and bleeding
Bone's f*cked at 33
Your ghost is haunting me
It's never gonna snow again in Indiana
I'm sick to bastard death