Oh God, my mom Just gave me a weed sticker To put onto my guitar Rarely ever smoking weed But still I stuck it in on Cause the stickers I put on there Have a story or a yarn Someone that I once knew gave me a sticker of a star She told me I should stick it on the back of my lanyard (It looked a little lame but I did it anyway) And every time my friends asked I had to explain Any hint of sentimentality I hold onto The little things that I hold dear if it has any value And when I have any single experience I have to write songs Fuck, what's wrong? I know there's something That I just can't put my finger on Oh, what's wrong with me? Tell me, please Rip off a sticker For it just reminds me I need to sleep But hundreds of these memories Keep playing on repeat Of things I could've done Or changed or handled differently And it's looming like a spectre Constantly reminding me That everything is volatile and soon one day will leave Told me she enjoyed the night, and now we never speak (Never had merit, for all a sticker is) Is a piece of fucking paper with nothing else to it Idle hands make one want to take A gun and place it in their face A bird in the hand will make one break It's fucking neck and throw it away When your life's plans Are just handed to you With no circumstance All the little happenings Mean so much more Than you would think And I know that the roots One day outgrow And if I was there You would too Oh, what's wrong with me? Tell me, please Rip off a sticker For it just reminds me