I hear you complain of how you’re rotting in your shit,
but when I give you answers, you are having none of it.
Oh what will make you happy, or will your day ever come?
Until you get it sorted, you wish I could lend you some.
Take a swig of happy juice, or badger it from me,
drain me of contentment, till I am unhappy.
The energy you stole from me, should do you for a while.
When it runs out, stay away, because I think you’re vile.
