Eighties Fan

You know, it really won’t surprise me
If you’re a wreck by the age of fourteen
The way you look, the way you look is fine
So often color-coordinated
Your sister, she’s an eighties fan
That’s all right, have I told you? So is mine
You say your life will be the death of you
Tell me, do you wash your hair in honeydew?
And long for all of them to fall in love with you
But they never do
Drinking vodka around the fire
Your mother has a watchful eye
So look out, kid, she’s onto you this time
Run away to a bed and breakfast
Console yourself with the Reader’s Digest
Ringing the Yellow Pages all alone
You say your life will be the death of you
Tell me, do you wash your hair in honeydew?
And long for all of them to fall in love with you
But they never do
No, they never do
You say your life will be the death of you
Tell me, do you wash your hair in honeydew?
And long for all of them to fall in love with you
But they never do
No, they never do
I’m gonna tell you something good about yourself
I’ll say it now and I’ll never say it about no one else
I’m gonna tell you something good about yourself
I’ll say it now and I’ll never say it about no one else
About no one else