Pumpkin Spice

She was raised in regression, her future controlled by the past
Poor thing

She'll never love me as much as she loves her pumpkin spice
With two shots of espresso, she shot down my shots twice
How can she look so hot yet act so cold?
Perfume is syrupy sugar, I can almost taste it
She hates anything black but likes to keep her taste basic
I don't stand a chance, yes, this I know

She'll throw a tantrum if she doesn't get her hands on one
Plucked straight from the cover of a magazine

Drink up, drink up, you silly little thing, you
Bring up, bring up all the things you hate about me
Tell me, tell me what you love about that hot pot
I know, I know I'm not your cup of coffee
And you told me to choke on a bit of ideal modernity
And I told you I know, I know I'm not your cup of coffee

Her tongue is sharp, sharp, sharp, filed down by prejudice
It's not fully her fault, her father can be credited
Said if she brings a bitter home, he'll beat her ass
There's a spot out back for people just like me
Painted with blood-stained graffiti oh so frightening
I'm actually kinda glad she doesn't want to bring me home

She'll throw a tantrum if she doesn't get her hands on one
Plucked straight from the cover of a magazine
(One, two, three, go!)

Drink up, drink up, you silly little thing, you
Bring up, bring up all the things you hate about me
Tell me, tell me what you love about that hot pot
I know, I know I'm not your cup of coffee
And you told me to choke on a bit of ideal modernity
And I told you I know, I know I'm not your cup of coffee

I know, I know I'm not your cup of coffee
I know, I know I'm not your cup of coffee
I know, I know I'm not your cup of coffee
I know, I know I'm not your cup of coffee



Credits
Writer(s): Dakota Cook
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link