I can't say enough.   Waste my breathe on nothing.   Sick of making up for everything.   I'm not significant, worthy, or realistic.   I'm not brave enough anyway.      Kids, guns, and cabernet,   another football Sunday.   The sting of Tanqueray   on the back of throat.   Another holiday.   Another ridiculing.   You're all the same to me   and I hope you choke.      For the sake   of the idiots   If it's all the same.   Bye, bye.