Didn’t order a table for two whatsoever
On this day, twenty second December
Like a matador teasing the meaning of life
Like an old poet searching it under the moon
You wish me a sad paradise
And again I die in it, too
You’re your own, I’m going beside
Just like pieces on the shelf
But ‘cause today’s your birthday I
Don’t want to kill myself

it's good not to kill yourself :)

not bad