Little Old Me
Julie Arsenault Lyrics

My mother’s the epitome
Of everything that I should be
She gave me more than she could ever give
My father gave me plenty too
Neurosis, what else could he do?
My brother, well my brother plays the blues

Oh but where does that leave,
Little old me?
Oh me Oh my

The creature that I call myself
An opus played my ne’er do wells
A monster no one else can seem to see
Alive but trying to forget
And dying for a cigarette
In bed for days, and days, and years on end

Oh but where does that get,
Little old me?
Oh me
Oh my

My memory is gone
And I can’t see
An inch or two in front of me
So what’s the point in opening my eyes?
My mother’s the epitome
Of everything that I should be
So what went wrong?
Oh what? And when? And why?

Tell me, what is to come of
Little old me?
Oh me
Oh my