Now, this will be the last bitter song
It will be my last, real bitter song about you

From now on, I’ll write about flowers and butterflies
Chickens and kittens and [bad word] From now on, I’ll try to look myself in the face
From now on, I’ll try to find someone who knows I exist

so I won’t have to feel like I do
when I write my bitter songs
This is my last real bitter song
about you

I won’t have to mention she was blonde and thin
with a peanut for a brain and volleyballs for chest
I won’t have to mention: that’s always what happens
when you leave him your key, he ends up having  in your apartment with miss Non-Bitterness

So this will be the last bitter song
I’m feeling cheerful already
I’d like to break his neck, if I may

But most, I’d like to cut off that hair
and cut off that head
and cut off those volleyballs

And I hope her heart gets broken
And I hope she turns bitter, really really bitter
like me