Paroles: Propagandhi. Other. The About-as-close-to-emo-as-we'll-ever-get Song.

i hid inside my room like a fucking coward and the past 18 months flashed before me in the last eight long hours. a little less than amazing: you finally got a rise out of me. so i laughed, i cried (well, i tried, but i laughed again). see? who the fuck needs a caricature to be their friend? it's so fucking stupid. i'm just as scared and insecure as you (maybe even x2) and i wonder what you really thought of me. an intimate friend? a loud-mouthed jerk? or just a novelty? (and, hey, do you think i could sing this a little more out of key?) this is not an apology. it's just therepy. because as we all know (and apparently), i don't need anybody.