She was high class, drives too fast,
cigarette ash on the dash,
Waisting her 20s on me
Springsteen, acts so mean,
crashing cars but says she’s clean
And now I’m falling asleep
Makes things over complicated
And i feel manipulated
You seem so over aggravated
With me
You think you’re the queen of the world
But no you’re just a girl
Who cares too much about
what people think
I hope you don’t
Cut your hair
Cause It’s far too brittle bleached
And it looks better black than pink
I hope you don’t
Cut your hair
If you don’t wanna hear me speak
Then don’t come crying back to me
And I was star struck, trying to fuck
Mistook you for just dumb luck
It wasn’t easy to see
Romantic eyes, little white lies,
Took the shirt off some random guy
Who all look kinda of like me
Makes things over complicated
And i feel manipulated
I know that you are wasted
With me
You think you’re the queen of the world
But no you’re just a girl
Talking too much
shit and selling it cheap
I hope you don’t
Cut your hair
Cause It’s far too brittle bleached
And it looks better black than pink
I hope you don’t
Cut your hair
If you don’t wanna hear me speak
Then don’t come crying back to me