Bigger And Better At Being Worse

Oh, don't be sarcastic
Please I'm asking you
Because you're making a complete mess of it
I should let you know, we're playing on a level plain
'Cause now I match you pound for pound in substance, style
And cynicism
You just like him so much don't you?
The blond pretty boy, I could make him look blue
And I would, just for to hurt you
But he can't help who he is
A pretty looking boy with a pretty empty head
And a laugh that sounds like something's about to be dead
He's just a cardboard prop to me
I could break him, just to hurt you
As you can tell, I'm not your old polite little yes-boy
Your executive toy
Your wind up, throw away action figure
Now I'm a little bit older
A little bit colder
And a little less naive
You can't control me anymore
I'm not chaining myself to anyone anymore
I've come back from the grave you put me in
And I have something to tell you
And it isn't going to be pretty
Ah, for Christmas Eve
It sure is chilly