Karen, please come back I miss the kids Karen, please come back I miss the kids How old's he again, twenty-four? Is he still your yoga instructor? Karen, I don't have a bed anymore I sleep on a futon on the hardwood floor Can you blame me? I'm quite poor! Why'd you have to be such a whore? And I will write you songs 'Til my lungs fall out 'Til you hear me out She took the fucking kids! Please, hear me now All I want is for you to listen Karen, I keep your hair in a drain A little piece of you still remains Sometimes I stroke it My pain burns hot as my torch Placed outside your door Now your seeing why you're a (No, already done that one) I'll die in ritual fire Tear my world apart Like you did to my heart, oh Karen, please come back I miss the kids Was my arson not enough to convince you Give me back my son So I can stop sending you my porn Just open up your door And Karen, I've been thinking Karen, I know I've been bad I probably shouldn't have killed your dad But is it really grounds for divorce? No, no! Is it... Is this on?