those kinds of things never bother me
cause I'm the local joke
her sun burnt eyes roll
she calls me "the broken spoke"
never been late to [bad word] with fate
and see her phrases choke
but part of me wants to watch and laugh
as they go up in smoke

constantly crossing paths
with all the empty traits
you'd better leave things just unsaid
then left to contemplate
all my words trip as they leave my lips
 [bad word] to set things straight
she needs an excuse to end things and
 [bad word] the things you hate