Snow is falling, spinning round the light.
Now and forever, I won’t forget this night.
I’ve been searching for a victim and I’ve found
Myself one, deep in underground.

An educated, cultivated soul
On venom drunken, loathsome to behold...
And though it may my dignity profane
I can’t forget, like ice unmelting in the flame.

I’m sick. I’m spiteful.
My liver is diseased.
My only need is freedom
To follow my caprice.
I’m sick. I’m spiteful.
But why I can’t recall.
I need your love, 
I want your praise,
And devil take you all.

So toss me through the window
Or slap me in the face.
In underground, where truth is found,
I savor my disgrace.
Don’t make me a piano key—
I seek what I deplore.
And if it brings me misery
I want it even more.

Do I seem to amuse? To try
to justify myself? But why? 
The normal reasons don’t apply—
It’s only to myself I lie.
But even if I chose to try
To wipe the memory by and by,
I’ll see it till the day I die:
The way she looked the time she cried.

But why go on?
It tires even me.
What’s done is done, eternally.
And always, one from one leaves zero.
I hate to say it’s true.
An insect cannot be a hero.
Still, I’m more alive than you.