And all the cups I keep right there on the table
Just to demonstrate I'm a little unstable
But I'll still call my mother when it's ten in the morning
And I'm already scared of the dark

Staring at the dirty pile of cherry stems that reek like rum
My knuckles rough as fucking tree bark
I'm not your dad
So small and sad
And if you stay
I'll tell you why you'll be okay

I wonder if God does half this shit on purpose
Does he do it cause he thinks I'm a little more worth it?
If that's the case, I don't wanna go to heaven
Cause that makes God a dick

All the cups I keep right there on thе table
Just to demonstrate I'm a littlе unstable
But I'll still call my dad if it's ten in the morning
And I'm already scared of the dark

Staring at the dirty pile of cherry stems that reek like rum
With my knuckles rough as fucking tree bark
Go call your dad