Dear Mr. I think I am God
your holy words and presence makes me sick
cause the sight of you is so unprofessional
you left modesty hanging just above your bed
and you're made up of blood and words that you use
to sweet talk any willing gaze that you can find in the crowd
cause the fact that girls wanna rip you to shreds
I swear you get off on it
please dont break your back
trying to kiss your own ass like that
you think you got everyone figured out
but you don't and you wont and you cant have me
dear mister king of the earth
you're attractive and you know it
you're convinced that the world is spinning
in the palm of your hand
like its your own choice to decide when it will end
youre smooth talked avoiding the truth
so get used to the idea of hearing your own voice at night
cause the fact that you're gonna end up alone
I swear i get off on it
I know youre chewing on my name
when you finally spit it out
its gonna burn your tongue
