I was at the Jamie Oliver Petrol Station
I needed deli but God, I hate him
That man should not have his face on posters
I feel so angry and sad at most, huh
But then I think of the New York skyline
The west cork of the Yankee eyeline
Then get to thinking I have it wrong, tho'
Let me explain 'cause I'm never wrong though
Things are ugly to me, I get it
A flip phone with a lack of credit
And others beautiful, I remember
Blanch right at the end of December

So, okay, don't be a bitch
The man's got kids and they wouldn't like this
I'm saying, okay, don't be a bitch
The man's got kids and they wouldn't like this
Oh

This is making no sense to the average listener
Let me try explain myself in a few words

I make up places like Finglas, Tennessee
A mish-mash of what should and shouldn't be
The smoking area, concerned glances
She's really mental, it's not just acting
There's always something I'm missing out on
Overdosing on social calpol
Overeager to make acquaintance
With someone normal and nice who'll explain it
Yet I forget it when they stop breathing
And you'll have wasted your time on seething
I said I'm wasting my time on seething
And hey, you're not so good yourself
Come learn my mantra, it's like

Okay, don't be a bitch
The man's got kids and they wouldn't like this
So, okay, don't be a bitch
The man's got kids and they wouldn't like this
Oh

I'm still not explaining myself very well at all
Let me try, let me try again, let me try

It's the fear of not getting the door of the joy
Of the chopping it up with the car that you draw it on
Coming through town and then deeing the type of the people you missed
Who'd have died back in Dublin
The jeans that I'm wearing are very expensive
It's no a reflection, reflection, reflection
Sinead in ratoath and Sinead in the sky
And Sinead that I'll meet on the by and by
And the fear of the freedom of being released again
Feel seventeen again, washing the sheets with
The lies that I don't even know that I've told 'cause
I've mixed them all up, yeah the cactus is cold

It's like, okay, don't be a bitch
The man's got kids and they wouldn't like this
I'm saying okay, don't be a bitch
The man's got kids and they wouldn't like this
I'm saying, Ciara, don't be a bitch
The man's got kids and they wouldn't like this
I'm saying, Ciara, don't be a bitch
The man's got kids and they wouldn't like this
Ohh

I was at the Jamie Oliver Petrol Station
I needed deli but God, I hate him
That man should not have his face on posters
I feel so angry and sad at most, ugh Writer/s: Ciara Mary-Alice Thompson
Publisher: BMG Rights Management
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