We sit at the table
And still refuse to eat
Keep our hands filled with pitchforks to use as cutlery
I don't want to fight with you
But the words you say aren't true

I'll paper up these walls
While moments turn to years;
Always waiting on your call​—
Will this house ever feel like home, dear?
I don't want to fight anymore
But you're breaking through, and you're slamming doors

And now I'm cleaning up the mess you made
I'm just cleaning up the mess you made
You can just keep on walking
And call it a parade
While I'm cleaning up the mess you made

I'll wander 'round these city blocks until I find my spot
But I'm falling over my feet
And all my messy thoughts
I don't want to fight anymore
And now I can't get off the goddamn floor

And I'm cleaning up the mess you made
I'm just cleaning up the mess you made
You can just keep on walking
And call it a parade
While I'm cleaning up the mess you made
I'm just cleaning up the mess you made
I'm just cleaning up the mess you made
I'm just cleaning up the mess you made