All of my dishes, stacked in my room
Am I a slob? Please don't assume.
Clothes—whether ***** clean, or worn—
I know the difference, though they're strewn.
Twinkling lights strung overhead
Match the lamp beside my bed.
With dust my dresser is adorned,
And my favorite chair is red.
I see the beauty in the mess;
Why do you cry in distress?
Mom, I like to live like this.
And I have no one to impress.
Oct 20, 2017
Oct 20, 2017 at 12:02 PM UTC
All of my dishes, stacked in my room
Am I a slob? Please don't assume.
Clothes—whether ***** clean, or worn—
I know the difference, though they're strewn.
Twinkling lights strung overhead
Match the lamp beside my bed.
With dust my dresser is adorned,
And my favorite chair is red.
I see the beauty in the mess;
Why do you cry in distress?
Mom, I like to live like this.
And I have no one to impress.
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