| Lyrics |
Go on and ring my necklike when a rag gets weta little disciplinefor my pet geniusmy head is like a lettucego on and dig your thumbs in
I cannot stop giving
I
`m thirty-something
Sens of securitylike pockets jingling
Midlife Crisessuck ingenuitydown through the family tree
You
`re perfest, yes, it
`s truebut without me you
`re only youyour menstruating heartit ain
`t bleedin
`enough for twoit
`s a Midlife Crises...
What an inhertancethe salt and the kleenexmorbid self attentionbending my pinky backa little diciplinerent an opinion
Sens of securityholding blunt instrument
I
`m a perfectionistand perfect is a skinnend knee
You
`re perfect, yes, it
`s true...
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