I feel like scored clay
Rough unless I attach myself to you
I see your face
In the Christmas magazine, in a candy cane
I am going to start letting you
Put spinach in my eggs
It's obvious I'm Olive Oyl and you're Popeye

I'm not worried about the rest of my life
Because you are here today
I go back in time
I'm a cast iron

What about the sweet
Glazed streets of your
Ho-hum hometown?
There I sat in warm-enough shade
Do you miss that reckless life?
Maybe I'm asking myself
It is only fair
To ask myself, too

You don't love me?
That's okay, God
Loves me, Target
Loves me, Gap loves
Me, you will be
So successful
You'll buy new friends

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Writer(s): Greta Kline