I was born cursed with two left feet
And I can't keep dancing to the beats of all your dumb old drums
For Lord Frail, the Patron Saint of Pale
Sedatives and therapists
There must be a better way to settle this
Let's play rochambeau (oh)
One, two, three, run (oh)
If you win, I'll never ask to play again
I'll come home, like nothing ever happened
Silence descends in tears, subjective truths
Once filled forever home, now filled too
Fuck it, let's play rochambeau (oh)
One, two, three, run (oh)
If I win, I'll never have to dance again
Damn your dumb drums, damn your frailties
Me and my left feet are leaving (oh)
(Oh)
I can't bathe in your ways anymore
I'd rather be profane and chased and bored
Ooh
(Oh)
(Oh)
(Oh)
(Oh)
