six years ago my car left me stranded.
five years ago i was dying from pneumonia.
ten years ago i fell in love with a girl who broke my heart.
eight years ago i was arrested.
i used to think it was just like every other day,
but after all these years, it just brought me to my knees.
and you won't catch a sight of me on january eighteenth:
i don't mess with the one eighteen.
six years ago my car left me stranded.
five years ago i was dying from pneumonia.
ten years ago i fell in love with a girl who broke my heart.
eight years ago i was arrested.
and if you think it was just those years, you're wrong:
one year, i broke my leg just walking down the street.
and for the last three years, i've been hiding in my home--
i don't mess with the one eighteen.
(six years ago his car left him stranded.)
(five years ago he was dying from pneumonia.)
(ten years ago he fell in love with the girl who broke his heart.)
(eight years ago he was arrested.)
and every year that pa**es makes me fear it more.
i don't mess around with that day.
and every girl i get with never fills the void
left in my heart from that [unintelligible] girl.
and i'm sure one day my tombstone's gonna read
"born on june 5th--died on 1/18"