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They Might Be Giants
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In Fact
I'm a mess, even at my best I'm just
Dismantling my chances
Even as I win a bunch
I've got tripwires to finesse, I'm a mess
No, I ain't right if there's a test tonight
I will ask for an extension
As I slide my desk a bit
Towards the conman dressed in white, I ain't right
In fact it's messier still, that mess is hook
That drags me along
And now that mess has an entourage
All dressed in dungarees, what went wrong?
I confess it like a chess piece
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Yes, I have rolled under your piano
That you don't play a lot
But I'm sorry I digress, I'm a mess
So let me out
Don't wanna be your mouse
I wanna find a softer spot for my crash-landing
Not much to talk about, let me out
In fact it's messier still, that mess on the loose
And leading a mob
They march with pitchforks and torches now
They have an old ID to survive
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