Sesame Street Is No Place for Me
You commie-loving, death-counting, tally-keeping delinquent
I love the way you suck me in
It's my favorite form of sin
And all this nonsense banter, it's like I'm talking to an infant
I made the best mistake I could make
I've thought of worse before but this takes the cake
So you're getting over me by getting under other people?
Adding insult to injury: what do they equal?
Did you pray to God to fall out of love with me?
Cause I do the same but in a different way
I ruined every holiday and hated every game you play
Your wish came true, now you're true blue
You're such a debutante, dilettante, miles of skin to flaunt
You will get what you want
And now you hang out around with the coolest cats I've met
You sold away what's left within
And left me with the mess that I've been in
A wishing well, a witch's spell
Oh, the things that you will need
If your convoluted delusions of grandeur ever will succeed
What'd you do, fall on another accident?
I'd rather hang from a fucking ceiling fan
I can tell you think you're happy
But the audience is never clapping
Years ago, they might've loved you
You should have never let them touch you
Now they've cut you down into a film to snuff you
There's no mask that you can wear if you've got no face to wear it on
Let's play bow and arrow with each other using tongues!
Release our syllables and calculate who's won
We all dream we'll have it all one day
(What'd you do, fall on another accident?)
So count your beauty marks weighed next to your scars
(I'd rather hang from a fucking ceiling fan)
No matter the victor, we're happy every wound is ours
I love the way you suck me in
It's my favorite form of sin
And all this nonsense banter, it's like I'm talking to an infant
I made the best mistake I could make
I've thought of worse before but this takes the cake
So you're getting over me by getting under other people?
Adding insult to injury: what do they equal?
Did you pray to God to fall out of love with me?
Cause I do the same but in a different way
I ruined every holiday and hated every game you play
Your wish came true, now you're true blue
You're such a debutante, dilettante, miles of skin to flaunt
You will get what you want
And now you hang out around with the coolest cats I've met
You sold away what's left within
And left me with the mess that I've been in
A wishing well, a witch's spell
Oh, the things that you will need
If your convoluted delusions of grandeur ever will succeed
What'd you do, fall on another accident?
I'd rather hang from a fucking ceiling fan
I can tell you think you're happy
But the audience is never clapping
Years ago, they might've loved you
You should have never let them touch you
Now they've cut you down into a film to snuff you
There's no mask that you can wear if you've got no face to wear it on
Let's play bow and arrow with each other using tongues!
Release our syllables and calculate who's won
We all dream we'll have it all one day
(What'd you do, fall on another accident?)
So count your beauty marks weighed next to your scars
(I'd rather hang from a fucking ceiling fan)
No matter the victor, we're happy every wound is ours
Credits
Writer(s): Lockwood Cory Brandon, Franzino Michael Robert, Arrington Joseph Wesley, Littlefield Michael Austin, Travis Kurt, Wiacek Benjamin Jacob Martinez
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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