"what I haven't got"

	
I'm so sick of writing
It seems like it's become all I do
No matter what my mood
I have a different pen, a different place to vent
There are too many pens

Like the chain-smoking ambulance driver
This is the biggest contradiction in history
No matter which way it is, I'll find something to complain about
Because I just can't seem to be pleased

In summer I get sick of wearing shorts and want my layers
When I'm at an emo show, I wish it was hardcore
When I'm asleep (yeah, right), I wish I was awake
When I'm all alone, I wish I had a date

It works both ways

And for the most part, I just always seem to want
What I haven't got

I'm too bent on thinking what this could be
To appreciate it for what it is
I'm sure if I died, I'd want to be alive
I'm sure if you cared, I would love you then
I'm sure if I cared, you would love me too
I can't take what I do to myself
Or what I do to you