You know I'm impatient So why would you leave me waiting outside the station? When it was like minus 4 degrees and I I get what you're saying I just really don't want to hear it right now Can you shut up for like once in your life? Listen to me I took your nice words of advice about How you think I'm gonna die Lucky if I turned 33 Okay, so yeah, I smoke like a chimney I'm not skinny and I pull a Britney Every other week But cut me some slack Who do you want me to be?
'Cause I'm too messy And then I'm too fucking clean You told me, "Get a job" And you ask where the hell I've been And I'm too perfect 'Til I open my big mouth I want to be me Is that not allowed? And I'm too clever And then I'm too fucking dumb You hate it when I cry Unless it's that time of the month And I'm too perfect 'Til I show you that I'm not A thousand people I could be for you And you hate the fucking lot You hate the fucking lot You hate the fucking lot Hey, hey
It's taking you ages You still don't get the hint I'm not asking for pages But one text or two would be nice And please, don't pull those faces When I've been out working my arse off all day It's just one bottle of wine or two But hey, you can't even talk You smoke weed just to help you sleep Then why you're out getting stoned at 4 o'clock And then you come home to me And don't say hello 'Cause I got high again And forgot to fold my clothes
'Cause I'm too messy And then I'm too fucking clean You told me, "Get a job" And you ask where the hell I've been And I'm too perfect 'Til I open my big mouth I want to be me Is that not allowed? And I'm too clever And then I'm too fucking dumb You hate it when I cry Unless it's that time of the month And I'm too perfect 'Til I show you that I'm not A thousand people I could be for you And you hate the fucking lot You hate the fucking lot You hate the fucking lot
And I'm too messy And then I'm too fucking clean You told me, "Get a job" And you ask where the hell I've been And I'm too perfect 'Til I open my big mouth I want to be me Is that not allowed? And I'm too clever And then I'm too fucking dumb You hate it when I cry Unless it's that time of the month And I'm too perfect 'Til I show you that I'm not A thousand people I could be for you And you hate the fucking lot
You hate the fucking lot You hate the fucking lot You hate the fucking lot You hate the fucking lot
Compositores: Lola Emily Mary Young, Conor Luke Dickinson (Conor Dickinson) ECAD: Obra #43714230