Happiness Is Overrated

And speaking of little Miss Catherine . . .
I feel swell. Oh well.
Because losing you was something I always did so well.

I guess I just can't tell anymore.

And the feeling I get when I see your clothes
spread out on my floor:
I'm such a bore. I'm such a bore.
I don't do anything anymore.
I just count these ceiling tiles falling to my floor.

Sorry. I merely lost my head.
I'm sorry. I merely lost my head.

But you know those words that you said?
They get stuck here in my head.
And this feeling I dread?
It makes me wish I was dead.
Or just alone instead, I'll be alone instead.
I don't need anyone in this bed.
Just these ceiling tiles falling through my head.

Sorry. I really lost my head.
I'm so sorry I really lost my head.

Oh, those words you said.