Compliment Me, Baby

You can walk all over me.
You can stand and stare.
I still want my fingers in your hair.
You can tell your brother that
I don’t treat you right.
You can wish me demons through the night.
And, oh, compliment me, baby.
And, oh, compliment me, whoa.
You can give my drawings back,
Say they make you sad.
You can run, going to tell your dad.
And, oh, compliment me, baby.
And, oh, compliment me, whoa.