I’m a War
Rosie Cuckston
The buckles on her shoes, ribbons in her hair
Mould on the walls, it was a party for a boy
Look at the clothes she wears
Look at her knotted hair
She thinks she is an orphan
Chewing on her cardigan sleeve
But no, you're wrong
I'm a war instead
I'm a war in my head
I'm a war in my head
She was there again, she has thin hair
Hanging round the back door for a slice of bread and butter
I don't like her cos she is dirty
I wear patent leather shoes while she smells
I'm a five year old socialite
And there's dried snot under her nose
But no, you're wrong
I'm a war instead
I am a fighter plane