[Intro — spoken] Why… Why, why, why… WHY? You’re not even here, yet somehow taking up space. A squatter in my brain. A squatter in my mind. Rummaging through thoughts, vandalising the process. Helloooo? Are you even listening? Or manufacturing another situation? Knowing you… probably both. [Verse 1] Thought of you sporadically, pushed you out intermittently, admittedly, regrettably, you keep returning mentally. Uninvited guest upstairs, somehow you’ve got keys, making tea with old memories, getting comfortable with ease. I could’ve nurtured what we had, but nurturing ain’t my nature, and your nature needed patience I was never built to cater. Who am I to judge your stature? Who am I to measure madness? You were chaos dressed in beauty, I was logic dressed in sadness. [Pre-Chorus] I should’ve chosen you, or maybe I chose right. Could’ve stayed and watched us burn, could’ve run and saved my life. You’re more than sensible sensibilities can sensibly survive, and my own sensibilities aren’t exactly qualified. You’re in my nature, against my nurture, beautiful fool, emotional burglar. You said your piece, you hustle with ease, even in the way you tease. [Chorus] You’re a squatter in my brain, squatter in my mind, pulling on the whistle of my train of thought tonight. Squatter in my brain, beauty on my mind, I keep trying to forget you, but you keep stealing time. Why, why, why, why you still inside? Why, why, why, why you still my vibe? Bad for my peace, too good to deny, wrong in every sensible way, but somehow still right. [Verse 2] Pros and cons, pros and cons, same difference by dawn, one minute I’m sure you’re wrong, next minute wondering where you’ve gone. We could be good, we could be bad, someone definitely ends up mad, someone ends up looking ugly— not you. Obviously. You beautiful fool. Now I’m projecting, seems like a fair tool. What is life without antagonists? What’s a hero without a fight? What’s the point of being righteous if nobody’s wrong tonight? Stupid really. Can’t fix stupid. Can’t fix stupid. Elvis left the building, but somehow you’re still in it. My little chicken that could fly, always aiming at the sky, organisation ain’t your nature, but surviving certainly might. And I worry about you, you clever fool, you beautiful menace, you absolute tool. So full of bull, yet somehow cool, you walk into chaos like chaos works for you. [Break — spoken] You came to play. So play. Will you win? You might. But what exactly are you doing inside my head? Rearranging furniture, opening cabinets you were never invited to open. This feels legally questionable. [Verse 3] Broker with inside knowledge, trading secrets in my head, skating far too close to lines the sensible would never tread. SEC might want a word, if thoughts were stocks you’d have a case, hostile takeover underway, still smiling in my face. Squat my head, squat my brain, conductor on the wrong damn train. Train of thought— now that’s just loco. You derail me with a sentence, then vanish like, “Okay, gotta go though.” And honestly— no. Scratch that. I never trust a person starting sentences with “Honestly.” Same with “Trust me.” Never trust somebody saying “Trust me.” Best truths hide themselves in jest, the things we laugh about are usually what we know the best. You said your piece, you hustle with ease, you smile, you tease, you destabilise with expertise. [Bridge] Fact is… I chose wrong. Or maybe chose too quickly. Acted in haste, ignored my taste, got put to the test when I wasn’t my best. We can leave out the rest. You probably don’t know what “the rest” even is. Maybe neither do I. I’m in a state. Between sense and sensibility. Between wanting peace and missing instability. Between knowing better and wanting you anyway. Annoying, really. [Final Chorus] You’re a squatter in my brain, squatter in my mind, pulling on the whistle of my train of thought tonight. Squatter in my brain, beauty on my mind, I keep trying to forget you, but you keep stealing time. Why, why, why, why you still inside? Why, why, why, why you still my vibe? Bad for my peace, too good to deny, wrong in every sensible way, but somehow still right. [Outro — spoken] Until next time. This situationship is officially out. I love you really. It’s that thing. That thing thing. You know. That thing thing thing. I’ll try forgetting about it. But if you figure out how before I do, please share with the class. AnyHOO… Call me. Or text me. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
