| Look what I got for Valentine’s Day: | 
| Lady Luck came along, took my dreams away, | 
| And the tears hurt more than a broken nose — | 
| I bled from the thorns of a barbed-wire rose. | 
| I know that I’m supposed to pray | 
| Thanking God for each new day. | 
| Would it disturb his master plan | 
| To one day be a happy man? | 
| I’ve tried to be positive, tried to be nice. | 
| I’ve turned the other cheek so I’d get hurt twice. | 
| I’ve forced a smile, I’ve dropped my guard | 
| I’ve seized the day but it bit me hard. | 
| Life’s too short, but long enough to gain | 
| The cap and gown of misery, suffering and pain. | 
| No need to read my diary to see what lies before me — | 
| Just another chapter in my Badtime Story. | 
| The end of love and laughter | 
| now we’re happy never after. | 
| My next birthday will, I fear | 
| Be much the same as every year. | 
| Inside the wrapping there | 
| Are a few more wrinkles and a little less hair. | 
| Another Autumn leaf is turning, | 
| One more soul for candle-burning. | 
| Hid beneath the sham and glitter | 
| I taste a cake that’s stale and bitter. | 
| I’ve tried to be positive, tried to be nice. | 
| I’ve turned the other cheek so I’d get hurt twice. | 
| I’ve forced a smile, I’ve dropped my guard | 
| I’ve seized the day but it bit me hard. | 
| Life’s too short, but long enough to gain | 
| The cap and gown of misery, suffering and pain. | 
| No need to read my diary to see what lies before me — | 
| Just another chapter in my Badtime Story. | 
| On my Christmas card last year it said: | 
| «So sorry, Santa Claus is dead. | 
| Crawl into the oven when you’ve had enough | 
| 'Cos it keeps sitting here quietly waiting to be stuffed.» | 
| What a festive way to go | 
| Here beneath the mistletoe, | 
| With open eyes and an open wrist | 
| To vanish from your Christmas list. | 
| I’ve tried to be positive, tried to be nice. | 
| I’ve turned the other cheek so I’d get hurt twice. | 
| I’ve forced a smile, I’ve dropped my guard | 
| I’ve seized the day but it bit me hard. | 
| Life’s too short, but long enough to gain | 
| The cap and gown of misery, suffering and pain. | 
| No need to read my diary to see what lies before me — | 
| Just another chapter in my Badtime Story. |