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Sage Francis
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Trite
I'm having identity crises
No, we're not, yes, we are
I'm having identity crises
No, we're not, yes, we are
I don't have a feeling that hasn't been felt, feeling on my felt tip
Showing my hand, revealing what I've dealt with
And how I'm dealing, cut the deck, evenly distribute the pieces
Of shit talking during our disputes on weekends
We can sing along to each other's song, right?
Even if the interpretation is wrong, right?
Just make sure you don't bring the wrong mike
'Cause I don't care about meeting a boyfriend we can all like
(Nah)
This song is called trite, hope ya like it
Could've substituted your name with the title
But I decided that I'd keep it private
Violent dream sequences just seem endless
I can see myself making a heated entrance
To your workplace with a smirk on my face
And a tongue in my cheek and a gun in my reach
Sneaking naked photos of myself under the seats of your co-workers
Putting a knife to your throat and screaming out 'I won't hurt her'
They're like 'Let her go' and I'm like 'Let her grow'
Prisoners wouldn't listen to this, their rational side was out
On a furlough, I like turbo-nuclear family affairs
I want a wife, a house, and two and a half mistresses
To call when I'm not there, then hang up the phone
And have my wife call up the phone company
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And ask the phone company guy 'Why?'
And he's like 'Ma'am, well, maybe you just don't know how to talk'
And she's like 'Damn, well, wanna fuck me?'
'Yeah, of course' See? Case closed and he knows how to trace calls
So I can't make cranks saying, 'I hate y'all'
I throw baseballs at my mirror, break walls, a tear
Another page out of my diary, throwing it from the eighth floor 'til I hear
A pin drop unsuspecting pallbearers are in shock
They know I'm about to kill myself with a sling shot
They bring rocks for ammunition
Steal my lifetime magazines and then cancel my subscription
Their hands are just itching to scratch my clean records
My rap sheets are infected, now I can't be president
I just have to be elected, I ask for just a second chance
The answer back was 'Kid, you never did in the first place'
Speaking of that, give me my blue ribbons back
And anything that is mine
Waiting for a nice guy who can't make it to the finish line
When I die, you won't recognize the picture buried inside the obituary
But it'll say, 'Bye, I miss you very much'
I'm always one for last words at departing time
In a million years is when this dead star will shine
Say my fuckin' name, nope, say my fuckin' name, nope
You don't know what to call me, so you don't
You don't, you don't call me, you don't, you don't call me
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