My family has a curse
It’s the Dollhouse Dilema
The problem is you see,
That people think we’re perfect.

We’re plastic to the outside world
And perfectionist at our core.
We’re always in control, that is,
Until something goes wrong.

Do you see the problem here?
The problem is with logic.
Plastic melts with heat and pressure,
But we just smile harder.

I don’t know why we’re like that
And I’m not sure we’ll recover but
Beware the perfect people, for
They have the biggest problems.

My arms don’t reach, I am unchained.
That’s when you feel loose enough to cry
“Are you okay?”
And you want to say “No”
but instead you say “yes” and you lie.

Everyday, it’s everyday
The Babadook is every day
He’s in my room, he’s on the couch
He’s ******* fingers with his mouth
It’s in the car, beneath the covers
In toothbrushes and thoughts of lovers
I need to burn that haunting book,
I need to fight the Babadook
If I keep fighting everyday,
I’ll be okay, I’ll be okay.