PLEASE DON'T PAY FOR THIS SONG! Enter ZERO dollars! (If I don't give the option to pay, then it won't show up in your collection.)
(i don't know what is being said in these samples, so
if you can translate it, i would be so excited!)
i feel awkward wherever i go,
if it's a place i don't know
or falls outside of my comfort zone.
i feel like everybody's always looking at me
to see what kind of asshole i will turn out to be.
so when my friend pulls around and says,
"how about we go downtown and get a booth
at the imperial hookah lounge?"
he's got this crazy expression on his face that says
it doesn't matter what you say, i'm taking you anyway.
a storefront in a strip mall,
we park beside the hallmark,
dark inside, find a table on the far wall.
we gotta choose a flavor, how 'bout juicy green apple?
bag of multigrain chips, and a kiwi strawberry snapple.
a couple tokes in, we're told the show's about to begin.
the lights go dim, and now the sound of something jingling.
no fucking idea what's really happening here,
and then the bellydancer appears, and i'm like, "oh, damn."
see the amazing ways she sways her hips,
attitude alluded to through ruby lips.
okay, i like this better,
put down my harvest cheddar sun chips.
billowing smoke, unfolding and receding
in the shadows as my mind begins to process what i'm seeing.
undulating muscles, independent of each other.
stunned by her beauty until suddenly i wonder
if i'd ever get up the nerve to talk to her
and what sort of quirky banter such endeavors would incur.
a simple conversation wouldn't be an imposition.
if they turned up the lights, i couldn't hide my disposition.
i'm a nerd. in certain circles, that's a dirty word,
but it means you can infer that
i'm not part of the herd.
i do what i truly want, and i don't care if it's cool or not,
dinosaurs and spaceships
and time travel and robots.
it's a fruitless exercise to visualize her dread,
stressed because i doubt she'll be impressed with my nerd cred.
i'm sure that mightier guys than i have tried and failed,
so i watch her dance; once again my confidence is derailed.
oh, wait, i forgot - i'm a total fucking badass.
i was cutting fucking records while you were still cutting class.
i got all the best weapons in final fantasy X -
i dodged lightning for three hours, i'm not even fucking kidding.
i got 37 motherfucking alts in world of warcraft,
built a tower the size of a fucking mountain in minecraft.
so i devote an unhealthy amount of time to doctor who,
but so what? who gives a fuck, my dick is bigger than YOU!
i guess what i mean to say is
everything will be okay.
i'm all the right things to
the kind of girl i'd like to date.
this bellydancer isn't really out of my league,
you see, we're playing different games
in the same lame city.
okay, i know it sounds like i'm just making excuses.
i could try to get her number, but it's honestly useless.
i could force a connection when it clearly isn't there,
or buy a scimitar and find a bellydancer at a ren fair.
she's still dancing, but i think i'd fancy some food.
on the way to your place, try to locate a late-nite drive thru.
holy fucking shit, she has a rebel alliance tattoo.