Stan-

ding

on

the

cor-

ner

of

Stu-

art

and

the

A-

ve-

nue.

Rip-

ping

up

my

trans-

fer

And

a

pho-

to-

graph

of

you.

You're

a

blur

of

my

dead

past

And

rot-

ting

e-

xis-

tance,

As

I

stand

lau-

ghing

on

the

cor-

ner

Of

in-

sig-

ni-

fi-

cance.

Well,

des-

ti-

ny

is

dead

In

the

hands

of

bad

luck.

Be-

fore

it

might

have

made

some

sense,

But

now

it's

all

fucked

up.

Sea-

sons

change

as

well

as

minds

And

now

I'm

a

two

faced

clown.

You're

mom-

my's

lit-

tle

night-

mare,

Dri-

ving

dad-

dy's

car

a-

round.

I'm

beat

down

and

half

brain

dead,

The

long

lost

king

of

fools.

I

may-

be

dumb,

but

I'm

not

stu-

pid

e-

nough

To

stay

with

you.

Well,

des-

ti-

ny

is

dead

In

the

hands

of

bad

luck.

Be-

fore

it

might

have

made

some

sense,

But

now

it's

all

fucked

up.

Well,

des-

ti-

ny

is

dead

In

the

hands

of

bad

luck.

Be-

fore

it

might

have

made

some

sense,

But

now

it's

all

fucked

up.

We're

all

fucked

up.

We're

all

fucked

up.