Nothing to Do with Anything, but

Tired of apologizing every single day
Tired of the things that bring me down
Tired of excuses made in every single way
There’s nothing left to do or say

I’ll take everything I own
Douse it in gasoline, oh, fire
Let’s take everything we own
Douse it in gasoline
And we’ll light up

Tired of these plastic records
This four-chord six-string
Tired of these notes that I can’t sing
Tired of being twenty-somеthing
Past twenty-something
Couple dеcades passed, irrelevant