I'm sorry that your dad's dead I hope you amend it I think I've lost a lot of my friends through belief that I'm an instrument Well, f*ck me if you must, then treat me like an old friend I can't exist within my own head, so I insist on haunting your bed If you could only hear what I said, you'd see
Chorus: I'm not scared
Spin car round, push your head down, down, down Smashing to the ground with you There's been a piece of glass and a terrible sound What if what they're saying is true? Oh, I prefer it in your bed, television set
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