Svante No. 10 song

SVANTE’S BLACK SONG

I’m so tired of myself and all my stoppings.

And my body causes me dismay.

What use is it my liver’s size keeps dropping

When my belly just balloons away.

I’m prone to self-hating

Need a touch of overrating.

I’m fed up with my name, my thoughts are fleeting.

And my prayers the Lord will all ignore.

What use to me’s a heart that goes on beating

When there’s no one it is beating for.

I’m prone to self-hating

Need a touch of overrating.

I regret all my past, my birth’s distasteful.

I should not have seen the light of day.

And Nature’s been a damned sight over-wasteful

when I wasn’t strained off straight away.

I hate my self-hating

Need a touch of overrating.

I’m so tired of my voice and my handwriting

and my brain is leaden, tired and worn.

It would be oh so nice and so inviting

to forget oneself and be reborn –

be freed from self-hating

with a touch of overrating.