Sometimes I feel like a dead man
When I walk around my house
Petrified of going out
I couldn't leave to save my life

I'm a waste of my freedom
Cause I've imprisoned myself
With this crippling lack of wealth
And my decaying sense of self

And I have two years left

And I hate my future
I hate my job
And I'm such a fucking slob
Oh, my apartment is a mess

And I am very resentful
That life isn't art
And harry potter and voldemort
Are works of fiction, not our world

And we have two years left

And I hate sleeping
And I hate waking up
With a sense of shame
And I hate sleeping
And I hate waking up
And I can't afford to give a fuck about myself

And I have two years left
Two years left
Two years left to go
Two years left
Two years left
Two years left to go