G Bb G Bb
F G F G

G              F
my poket don't drive me fast
G                   F
my mother treats me slow
G                F
My statues got a concrete heart
G                      F
but you're the coldest bitch I know


G Bb G Bb
F G F G

In the factory that you call your mind
Graveyard thoughts of stone
A master thief I wouldn't enter there
You're nothing I would come to own

Your pretending that you've got it made
I know you know no truths
You're still serving cookies and Kool-aid
You're so proper and so cute.