Sounded like a seagull, turned out to be a siren
Not the good kind, red and blue swine
I've got too many problems
They never seem to end
It all depends on what you call a problem
And when you meet your ending
Will Peter be demanding one more question
Like what about the women leaving on your arm
Did she let you drive her car
How did you handle it
Probably fucked it up ' shit
Ice cream covers both your arms
Hiding all them pretty scars
The ones worn as a prize
Text me babe come back inside
Clutched tight in memory
It's so hard not to be there
Lost in a fearsome tumult
Longing becomes too tremendous
Please overlook these filthy rags
Stupid quarrels and lets play
I didn't know what to say
When she brought him to our wedding
Guess I was fucking laughing