Secretly I’m not as sorted as I say I am

I’m bursting at the seams waiting to hear again how great I am

Yellow, red, pink, love me some low light

It goes really well until you find out what I’m really like

We go out to breakfast, I make two years of mess

I’m running out of answers and I’m not even dressed

I like to think I’m balanced, but can’t look at my phone

’Cause you’re so hyped and now I’m jealous and still on my own