Pitted

In the end you’ll find me hanging out that second-story window
At that end-of-the-world-party
I was drinking gold at, I had a toga on it was embarrassing
Why didn’t anybody warn me about the dangers of playing «I Have Never»
with prosecco
Something is definitely bubbling up
Those nights when I’d rather stay home
But I make it out the door
And there’s that one song on, I hope for Queen B
But I can fake it to Bohemian Rhapsody
Dressing all black, bitching on the kitchen counter in the corner with my girls
Playing «Marry Fuck Kill» with every actor that’s ever played James Bond
And we’ll dance like our dads doing our Hotline Bling thing
God it’s embarrassing, god we’re embarrassing
And then the room it starts to spin
Those nights when I’d rather stay home
But I make it out the door
And there’s that one song on, I hope for Queen B
But I can fake it to Bohemian Rhapsody
Those nights when I’d rather stay home
But I make it out the door
And there’s that one song on, I hope for Bowie
But I can fake it to Bohemian Rhapsody
Those nights when I’d rather stay home
But I make it out the door
And there’s that one song on, I hope for Queen B
But I can fake it to Bohemian Rhapsody
Those nights when I’d rather stay home
But there’s that one song on, I hope for Queen B
But I can fake it to Bohemian Rhapsody
But I’d rather stay home
But I’d rather stay home