I'm telling you
I'm no longer your boat in quarantine
I'm no longer your quick, sharp blow
Nor the fallow land of your voice
I'm telling you
Contracting part of this hysteria
Dead weight, plan of attack
I was never your stowaway
I'm telling you
I'm telling you
Who turns this masquerade into your comedy
And you become strong in the comic strip
In which I don't want to get involved
I'm telling you
Loyal countertop monarch
Dead weight, all talk
Helmsman from the bottom of the barrel
I'm telling you
I'm telling you
Accomplice to empty the fridge
With the lights on, letting others do the job
Well fed, exhausting
I'm telling you
You don't listen
You never listen
All I say
Turns into a boomerang
You won,
Go celebrate
But if you see me in front of you
Look somewhere else