The Genius Of Me by The Gifted Children Lyrics
I’m in no mood for conversation
So sit there and watch me implode
I’ll turn into some sort of small black hole
And pull in all the things you wish we were
And i’ll stay here, try to figure out
Why there’s never any mustard
But there’s always salt to rub in my wounds
So sit there and watch me implode
I’ll turn into some sort of small black hole
And pull in all the things you wish we were
And i’ll stay here, try to figure out
Why there’s never any mustard
But there’s always salt to rub in my wounds