Don’t want this body; it’s scarred and fat
Don’t want this brain; it’s kinda sad
Don’t want this poverty; someone pay off my debts
Don’t want this body; it smells like sweat
I think (x3) I’m better off
I think (x3) I’m better off dead
Give me your poison; I’ll take it brown or white
Shots of tequila chased with Jame-o on ice
And I wanna forget…whatchamacallit?
Give me your poison: here, take my wallet
I think (x3) I’m better off
I think (x3) I’m better off dead
Don’t want my girlfriend; she’s always mad
I bought her flowers, guess that was bad
Is she ashamed of me, ‘cause I am not a man?
Don’t want my girlfriend; she makes me sad
I think (x3) I’m better off
I think (x3) I’m better off dead
Donate my body to the cannibals in need
I give permission to the little freaks to feed upon my flesh after my conscious concedes
Give my body to the cannibals for free
I think (x3) I’m better off
I think (x3) I’m better off dead
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