Everything Is So Fucked Up

Everything is so fucked up Everything is so fucked up Everything is so fucked up Everything is so fucked up I can't play jazz and I sing off key Can't pay the rent and my pockets are empty The jukebox reminds me of all the songs I lose When I'm too busy wallowing in the blues Everything is so fucked up Everything is so fucked up Everything is so fucked up Everything is so fucked up Bitter Street is bittersweet when even your memories are a memory Would someone buy me another drink? Would someone buy me another whiskey? Everything is so fucked up Everything is so fucked up Everything is so fucked up Everything is so fucked up When someone asks “what you been doin’?” “Nothin’” is all I can say It's hard to do much when I'm always in pain And scared to wake the next day Every song already had its turn ‘I Hate Music’ that's Paul Westerberg You think its fun to be thirty-one and have ambition but not the bullets for the gun Everything is so fucked up Everything is so fucked up Everything is so fucked up My fingers just ran out of luck