Go on and wring my neck
Like when a rag gets wet,
A little discipline
For my pet genius,
My head is like lettuce,
Go on and dig your thumbs in,
I cannot stop giving in,
I'm thirty-something.

Sense of security
Like pockets jingling,
Midlife crisis.
Suck ingenuity
Down through the family tree.

You're perfect, yes, it's true,
But without me you're only you,
Your menstruating heart,
It ain't bleeding enough for two.

It's a midlife crisis
It's a midlife crisis

What an inheritance,
The salt and the kleenex,
Morbid self attention,
Bending my pinky back,
A little discipline
A donor by habit,
A little discipline
Rent an opinion.

Sense of security
Holding blunt instrument
Midlife crisis
I'm a perfectionist
And perfect is a skinned knee.

You're perfect, yes, it's true,
But without me you're only you,
Your menstruating heart,
It ain't bleeding enough for two.

It's a midlife crisis
It's a midlife crisis

You're perfect, yes, it's true,
But without me you're only you,
Your menstruating heart,
It ain't bleeding enough for two.

You're perfect, yes, it's true,
But without me you're only you,
Your menstruating heart,
It ain't bleeding enough for two.

Go on and wring my neck
Go on and wring my neck,
Like When a rag gets wet,
Go on and wring my neck.

See also:
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116
116.22
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