Текст: Screeching Weasel. My Brain Hurts. Veronica Hates Me.

she always has something to say to ruin an otherwise nice day she always has to start a fight she doesn't like the way i think she don't understand why i must drink to go out on friday night but i know what she's doing i know that i'm losing i know that she's screwing me veronica doesn't like the way i dress veronica thinks my hair is such a mess why the deposition? veronica's definition of love is hate veronica hates me she thinks i oughtta get a job and quit taking up space on her couch with my hand deep in my crotch she don't know how to shut her mouth i don't know what i'd do without her to drag me down she asks me when is the wedding and i'm getting ready to yank out the net and push