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by
Rachael Jenkins
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It's tradition in my house To bring the boy over, unannounced On a mission for a spouse Don't you smile too big or he'll ask for your hand And you'll end up alone and endowed But it doesn't matter anyhow I don't bat for your team now Now I'm flying, windows down Burning gra** on the temple grounds One foot out, shoot me down Mourn my death on the news Blame my mom and tattoos And keep saving your spit for the drought And I pray to a God that doesn't care At least not enough to be there Oh, I'm not afraid of dying But I swear to God if I lose This self-proclaimed quitter Will have a bone to pick with you Bet you didn't think you'd see me
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