On my eighth birthday, I made a wish:
“If you are there, oh distant God,
Give me a dinosaur friend.”

What strange fucking beings we are:
Walking piles of meat and bone,
Heading down life’s roads
With hands covered in blood.

On my private island, I’m king and queen.
I live in a cave, alone and unseen.
I have no money, no friends, no sex.
Only my guitar, a knife, and regrets.

I’ll never see Claire again.
Her sweet red hair, her milk-white eyes.
I wonder if she thinks of me
Just as often as I think of her.
I wonder if she’s still alive,
Or if she’s also dead.

I hope she’s happy.
I hope she found love.
I hope she never has to see
The beast that I’ve become.

I can’t blame her for leaving.
I would have done the same.
In her place, I would’ve stabbed my best friend,
And buried him in a cold grave.
The truth is, you can’t love anyone
When you hate yourself.

Somewhere deep inside a mountain
In a hermit hemisphere
Where the sun never shines,
I will live out my days
Trying to find a reason
Why I am still alive.