It's another one of those Saturday's,
My parents have dragged me to another one of their parties.
I'm a rich, privileged kid,
That's not narcissism, I just know it.
But, even though I was born into riches,
I can't stand all of these fake bitches.
Get me out of this toxic gathering,
Everyone here deserves a battering.
Champagne flutes and dripping diamonds,
Designer suits, mansions in the Hamptons.
I want to escape this life of snobbery,
I need to flee this insufferable party.
If I had a dollar for every time I felt like dying,
I'd be rich on bucks,
But here I am, shit outta luck,
Lost, in a crowded room, not giving two fucks.
I've lost count of how many times I've been subjected to small talk here,
I'm sick to death of the lies and pleasantries,
I just want to swing from that diamanté chandelier,
And scream, "Nobody wants to fucking be here!".
I'm going to rip this Givenchy off of my back,
I'll sneak out the window, nobody following in my track.
Maybe I'll return to my small town life,
And find myself an ignorant, blissful type.
But, even if I dared to do such a thing,
I doubt my privileged past would allow me,
Allow me a life of beautiful simplicity,
Where nothing in my life would be worrying.
Alas, I'll just go back downstairs, and fake smile, complimenting everybody on their flamboyant style.
Leather shoes and incredible tyrants,
Animal skin boots, nothing about them is stylish.
I want to escape this life of prosperity,
I need to flee this insufferable meeting.
If I had a dollar for every time I felt like dying,
I'd be rich on bucks,
But here I am, shit outta luck,
Lost, in a crowded room, not giving two fucks.
I've lost count of how many times I've been subjected to small talk here,
I'm sick to death of the lies and pleasantries,
I just want to swing from that diamanté chandelier,
And scream, "Nobody wants to fucking be here!".
One day I know I'll say goodbye to this world, I just hope I'll leave, on my own terms.
I want to live a life where I'm in control,
Where I answer to absolutely no one.
I promised myself years ago,
That I would be the writer, producer and director of my own show.
Champagne flutes and dropping diamonds,
Designer suits, mansions in the Hamptons.
I want to escape this life of snobbery,
I need to flee this insufferable party.
If I had a dollar for every time I felt like dying,
I'd be rich on bucks,
But here I am, shit outta luck,
Lost, in a crowded room, not giving two fucks.
I've lost count of how many times I've been subjected to small talk here,
I'm sick to death of the lies and pleasantries,
I just want to swing from that diamanté chandelier,
And scream, "Nobody wants to fucking be here!".
I definitely don't wanna fucking be here.
