Local Joke - Neon Indian

Those kinds of things never bother me

'Cause I’m the local joke

Her sun burnt eyes roll

She calls me 'the broken spoke

Never been late to fuck with fate

And see her phrases choke

But part of me wants to watch and laugh

As they go up in smoke

Constantly crossing paths

With all the empty traits

You’d better leave things just unsaid

Then left to contemplate

All my words trip as they leave my lips

I’ve come to set things straight

She needs an excuse to end things and

Become the things you hate