Here ya go man, let me into access to the party hearty, the scene of my crime, baby, so you think you’re such a smarty well no you’re not well maybe, but there are some things I’ll never admit even when both you and I are right in front of it. It don’t matter, my mad hatter, you were butter on my bread when I had her, I put you on a big silver platter, and from there, I don’t care, do what you dare.
So here we go again, nunchuks in the hand of the local bully men. Is this where I began to hide in corners and fireplaces from the ones with the skateboards and the holes in their faces? They were powder in my chowder back when I was ten but now I’m the one that’s running from them.
Ma’am you know where’s the hardware store? No I don’t you little whore! Stay here and I’ll abuse you a little more. You love it cause you think you’re worthless to your core. But sometimes the things you use for protection are the ones that bring you down by your power of suggestion.
Why do I play Operation with the toaster every day? Why do pans catch on fire while what’s in them stays the same? Why do I ride the cable wire, looking for someone to take the blame? Why do pans catch on fire, while what’s in them stays the same? It don’t matter if you’re madder, I got the arsenic into your batter, the cookie is the last thing you’ll eat, I want you going out with something that tastes sweet.
Well it’s Simpsons on at six, Simpsons on at seven, Seinfeld on at seven-thirty, Seinfeld on at eleven. Picking up the phone to make a call to you. Don’t I have anything better to do? It don’t matter, my mad hatter, you just fell with a resounding clatter, then you asked me what was the matter, I said I was feeling fine even close to divine.