Oh God, my mom
Just gave me a weed sticker
To put onto my guitar
Rarely ever smoking weed
But still I stuck it in on
Cause the stickers I put on there
Have a story or a yarn

Someone that I once knew gave me a sticker of a star
She told me I should stick it on the back of my lanyard
(It looked a little lame but I did it anyway)
And every time my friends asked I had to explain

Any hint of sentimentality I hold onto
The little things that I hold dear if it has any value
And when I have any single experience I have to write songs

Fuck, what's wrong?
I know there's something
That I just can't put my finger on
Oh, what's wrong with me?
Tell me, please
Rip off a sticker
For it just reminds me

I need to sleep
But hundreds of these memories
Keep playing on repeat
Of things I could've done
Or changed or handled differently
And it's looming like a spectre
Constantly reminding me

That everything is volatile and soon one day will leave
Told me she enjoyed the night, and now we never speak
(Never had merit, for all a sticker is)
Is a piece of fucking paper with nothing else to it

Idle hands make one want to take
A gun and place it in their face
A bird in the hand will make one break
It's fucking neck and throw it away

When your life's plans
Are just handed to you
With no circumstance
All the little happenings
Mean so much more
Than you would think
And I know that the roots
One day outgrow
And if I was there
You would too

Oh, what's wrong with me?
Tell me, please
Rip off a sticker
For it just reminds me