Laid down, no bed
Face down, heavy head
It started from a thread
And it turned into a lasso
There’s too much hair upon my head
Could you cut it with X-acto?
Waist down, no legs
Played out, bad breath
Hey now (she’s coming thru the back)
It’s too loud (it’s seeping thru the cracks)
But be proud (king of the cul de sac)
Make sound
It started from a thread
And it turned into a lasso
There’s too much hair upon my head
Could you cut it with X-acto?
And it started from a text
And it turned to a fiasco
You never turned into a friend
I need to cut you with X-acto