Dillinger Four Fuck You, ms. Rochelle Letras:
he was preaching at the bus stop, he was drunk,
drunk on mouthwash, talk shit he a for a cigarette
i gave him a mint a lady asked will the six soon
he asked her if shed like to take a trip to the
moon his sarcasm reeked of loneliness

and i know i hated him through the snow i could
see a reflection fragile is the hell we make for
ourselves when we acknowledge that the spotlight's
on.

he was getting more obnoxious and he wouldn't quit
even though our faces read you're full of shit and
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then she split for another stop he was asking for
a smoke and he was pissed i said no he made a fist
so i pulled out my dick "try smoking
this" so similar it was killing me, so full
of shit at only 15.

fragile is the hell we make for ourselves when we
acknowledge that the spotlight's on. he was me in
high school, a stereo-type, a well-trained tool
but since then i've learned that all clowns aren't
fools

but if the me of then could see me now, i'm sure
he wouldn't listen up anyhow he'd say "i knew
you when you used to matter" but i've known
him since he wasn't so easily flattered
Letras: Fuck You, ms. Rochelle Dillinger Four [final]