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