Angelina.

Son of Sam's playing, because I'm feeling weird
It's a kind of consolation I get through my ears
The one part of my body that I don't hate
Because everything other just makes me irate
My stupid pig nose and my ugly face
The kid in my mirror's a fucking disgrace
He don't change himself; he don't even try
To a hopeless existence he's already resigned
He'll never have love and writing's a dead end
He hates every fucking one of his friends
'Cause they'll eventually all just pass him by
Leaving him alone and just waiting to die
He can't see one bright bit of hope out ahead
He's taken his future heartbreak as read
Yet he still hangs around, hoping he's wrong
And that one caring person will someday come along
One person to fix all of this pain
But she doesn't exist, so his wait is in vain.