Sometimes I tire of opening my own jars
And of waiting for things to happen in bars.
Sometimes I tire of being my sole motivation
For getting up and bringing home (no time to cook) the bacon.
Sometimes I get tired of carrying my own self home,
Bruised, bloodied, stumbling, and/or drunk, alone.
Sometimes I get tired of telling myself it will all be alright
And being the last one up, so please turn out the light.