Haven't Got a Clue

The Flaming Lips

Oh, what
Right
What's up?
One, two, three, four
You haven't got a clue
And you don't know what to do
You used your money and your friends
To try and trick me
But you won't trick me

As far as I can tell
You've created your own hell
And now you walk around this place expecting pity

Every time you throw a fit I can't decide
If you're full of it
And every time you state you case
The more I want to punch your face
I go

I still can't believe all your plastic surgeries
And now it's everybody's problem
That you're unhappy
Oh come on
Every time you state your case
The more I'd like to punch your face
Every time you state your case
The more I want to punch your face
And every time you state your case
The more I want to punch your face
I go