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You know I'm impatient | So why would you leave me waiting outside the station | When it was like minus four degrees?
You know I'm impatient So why would you leave me waiting outside the station When it was like minus four degrees? And I, I get what you're sayin' I just really don't wanna 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 turn 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? Because I'm too messy, and then I'm too fucking clean You told me, "Get a job", then 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, you hate 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 ass 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 out getting stoned at four 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", then 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 Oh, and I'm too messy, and then I'm too fucking clean You told me, "Get a job", then 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
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