Self

Preschool Days

Self


1-2-3-4, count 96 more 
and then come and find me 
cause im hiding, baby 
not in the closet or the door 
or down in the playroom where we used to 
play soccer and i'd grease the floor 
with lysol and love 

(chorus) 
right now gotta get something straight 
i can count backwards and make the grades 
i will let you carry my books 
thru those pre-school days 

try to tag me in the laundry chute 
where i'd grab your arm and come crashing down 
like bmx racers over double jumps 
those sentimental days plotting all the ways 
throwing snowballs at innocent passing cars 
the last laugh was never ours 

(chorus & repeat) 

and i remember playing games 
walking on bar stools with alias names 
and holding our breath, the floor a fiery 
toxic death, baby 
and i would always get my sister straight 
trash the dollhouse with ig-88 
and my han solo, in his hoth battle 
gear clothes 

(chorus)