Bad at being menI sweat and shake profusely when I seenA girl I likenI'd rather ride a bikenI push it off on GodnExpect him to solve everything and I sit right on my assnAs clouds and minutes passnAnd I fade... awaynI fade... awaynnBad at making lovenI think I've never made it quite at allnAnd I dressnLike a stupid stinking messnI care what people thinknI teeter on the brinknAnd I fall offnHooked on drinksnAnd nasty cancer sticksnnI'm bad at making friendsnAlone in my apartment that I call my departmentnCause it's a depressing apartmentnThe devil knows me wellnHe's guided me through several living hellsnIt's ironic that I'm becoming slightly thicknAs I fade... awaynI fade... awaynnAnother in a chainnOf self important manic singer songwriter refrainsnAnother lonely JewnConvinced the pen can battle all the guns they draw at younBut it's only if younnNa na na na nanNa na na na na nanNa na na na nannI'm bad at writing songsnAnd post progressive punk rock singalongsnThey're not appsnTo sell my plastic assnWhat do they lack?nThat they somehow relate to menThen forget me in a yearnLike a love once held so dearnAnd I fade... awaynI fade... awaynI fade... awaynI fade... away