The Mess You Call

Do I care enough
To write a song about
Fucking you
Or not fucking tonight?
I don't remember
Putting your name in my phone
But I remember, I remember
The numbers you typed

Fuck anyone who said a bad word
About me and my friends today, I think
They're just trying to look like
They fit in to whatever bar they've snuck
And fuck them for
Writing on my hand
And fuck, fuck, fuck
My overuse of the word "fuck"

And if I win in the end
(I'll call you)
And if I break into this land
(I'll plant you)
And if you let me take your leaves
(I'll grow you)
And if you sleep around my hand
(I'll keep you)

Take the accent off the vowel
And put it between your lips (Cracked)
Like a seed shell (Cracked)
The Liberty Bell (Cracked)
The training water bed

It seems the last forty minutes
Were spent leading up to this
I put my hand into the mess
You call the hair on your head