...And We Exhale And Roll Our Eyes In Unison

One, two, three, four, five, six...

It's bad enough you ever use the word as an adjective

But to suggest we do it in heels is really quite crass

And frankly, we're reasonably practical

And we know the benefits of always doing these things in flats

And I spent the last seven years perched on the edge of my bed

Scratching 'I am incredibly sincere' into my forearm

You should know better

A fifteen year old's editorial, some lazy innuendo

(The last man standing is a girl)

Four sweaty boys with guitars tell me nothing about my life

And the earth's air pressure gets far greater when I hear you

You should try harder

It takes an educated guess to see I like you little at best

And if you come here for the faces hope you leave under duress

And you still treat it like a novelty

Less pop concert more butchery

And we exhale, and roll our eyes in unison

And we exhale

And we roll our eyes

And we do these things in unison

And woe is me

And woe is you

And woe is us, together

And woe is me

And woe is you

And woe is us, together.