Texty: Ben Lee. Blemish.

I go out of my way to not dress up
So you can make a scene
You say I should have combed my hair
Or worn some nicer jeans
You've got spaghetti on your chin
While you curse me cause I'm not tucked in
My minds made up that I'll try hard
To fit in with your friends
With their cleanest pants and their dirty jokes
They drive me round the bend
Just let me hold this job
And prove you need a slob
I'm gonna tell that one bad joke
Be like a pimple on your face
I'll be the blemish in an otherwise perfected place
If you're perfect, you don't matter
Cause there's nothing to achieve
So I'm your blemish and for that you can be pleased
I'll go out of my way to irritate
I'll try to get a rise
I'll pull the chair out from under you
And tell you stupid lies
But I'm the best you'll get
Although you don't know it yet
My mind's made up, my mood is down
I'll leave you on the shelf
I'll give you someone good to blame
If you don't wanna blame yourself
' Cause I'm happy, a mosquito
Irritate you, while I eat you
I'm gonna tell that one bad joke
Be like a pimple on your face
I'll be the blemish in an otherwise perfected place
If you're perfect, you don't matter
Cause there's nothing to achieve
So I'm your blemish and for that you can be pleased
So I'm your blemish and for that you can thank me