Testo di Inamorata

Crying in the corner Sobbing in a bath rove Wadded in a puddle Sad little sack in a room If it leaves a foul taste You can spice it up some A little salt in the wound Now isn't that better? So far so so so Miserable misery Broken down blubbering Slouching sullen pout face Weeping pillow treatment On the cold mean wet tile Nothing to look forward to You might bawl yourself dry Howling tears at the moon And flooding the gutter So far so so so Miserable misery