I don't care.
I'll embrace all of my vices,
and we'll black it out,
or at least slow everything down.
And I'll fish [bad word] and I'll drink until I'm happy
and I'll wonder what you're doing but I won't call.

Our paths split.
It's morning but I still feel it
and we skate around.
Why, our intemperance feels so profound.
And I let you in real slow
and I regret it immediately
and [bad word] away so fast, you fall too deep too easily.

I don't care
if I'm too young to be unhappy
or I recklessly impair
this newfangled proclivity.
And I won't answer my phone
and I'll never leave my bedroom
and I'll avoid you like the plague because I can't give you what you want.
I won't give you what you want.