They'll Like Me When I'm Sick

Hi, my name is Mitchell Welling
I’m nineteen years old, I am a musician
Would you like to hear a song?
Hi, my name is none of your concern
Just listen and judge me for what you think I’m worth
And you said, «I like the way your fingers play the chords
I like the way you make me feel at home.»
Woah
I heard you’re at it again, I just called to say I never left
And good luck, good luck, good luck, good luck, good luck
I heard you needed some
If your father could see the mess you made
He wouldn’t like it very much
You’re playing a game entitled
«Hey, they’re gonna like me when I’m sick!»
Just don’t lie in the bed you made yourself
And expect me to tuck you in
'Cause I won’t
Because I liked the way my fingers played with yours
Yeah, I liked the way you made me feel at home
Woah, woah