all of your friends think you're the bees' knees
but you sleep alone at night
suffocating between the sheets
planning your next great masterpiece
with ego in tow, you go
running around like you own the place
so I'll just wait 'til you fall on your face
you and your high bred coterie
your upturned noses, no guns n' roses
flattery, just battery
so I can see why you're mad at me
your idiocy's like a venereal disease
spreading like wildfire amongst your peers
here's three cheers for my apathy
and I can see why you're mad at me
I don't want you, and that thought haunts you
so you can go weep in your skinny jeans
catalog this in your symphony
yeah, I can see why you're mad at me