Текст песни Poor Me

I'd rest on my laurels let some keen wit and crying awful pity sustain me But my memories leak like a sieve And fuel this fire It's deep and heavy roar defies me Let's not talk in vain about the weather Let's take my tired soul off of it's tether Poor me Poor me I can't reach the ends of this But if I didn't It would be the end of me I need to feen infatuation Stoke the coals of curiosity and longing Let's not talk in vain about the weather Let's take my tired soul of it's tether I need the glory with lights aglow around me My halo shining brightly in tribute to myself No, I can't have pity on me So tell me another story And I'll accept gladly and thank you for the help Poor me, Poor me