Thinking of Paris

I'm stranded in my room

I don't have much to do

I don't have much more to give

I don't have the will to live

I don't know why I feel this way

I don't feel this pain every day

I don't even like my hair

I don't know why I even care

I wipe the dust back off my books

I step back and I take a look

I don't even like my face

I know it is a big disgrace

People talking on the news

There is not much good news

And I'm bored as hell

I think I hear those bells

It's from the microwave

And my tv dinners getting warm

And I think I should wait a while before

Will I ever find myself

I don't know

But I hope so