messy Songtext
von Łaszewo
messy Songtext
It′s taking you ages
You still don't get the hint, I′m not askin' 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
So why you out gettin′ stoned at four o'clock?
And then you come home to me
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
You hate the fucking lot
You hate the fucking lot
'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
You hate the fucking lot
And don′t say hello, 'cause I got high again
And forgot to fold my clothes
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
You hate the fucking lot
You hate the fucking lot
You hate the fucking lot
You still don't get the hint, I′m not askin' 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
So why you out gettin′ stoned at four o'clock?
And then you come home to me
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
You hate the fucking lot
You hate the fucking lot
'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
You hate the fucking lot
And don′t say hello, 'cause I got high again
And forgot to fold my clothes
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
You hate the fucking lot
You hate the fucking lot
You hate the fucking lot
Writer(s): Lola Young, Conor Dickinson Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com