Your selfishness is horrid and your beauty is queen puts the pain gut-wrenching and the grass a sickly green the troubles of youth have got your hair in a mess and when you speak there's length in excess about your storm and stress
our love was never sacred kept me figuring out what to do l-o-v-e, i hate you
there's blood on the frosting when you cut the cake the meaning lies much deeper you're a big mistake let me count the ways on the squirming centipede you'll never find what you're looking for with these insatiable needs your passion is a pesticide the birds and bees are never in my trees you'll never find what you're looking for with these insatiable needs the trouble of youth have got your hair in a mess when you speak there's length in excess about your storm and stress