Hot Mess

He started out just like all the others
Prim and proper, like his brothers
You'd never think the preacher's son
Would grow up looking all undone
With no regrets for all he's said and done
They made him who he is today
So listen to me when I say;

Oh, that boy's a hot mess
Yeah, you know the kind
The one that acts refined
But never walks the line
Taking numbers left and right,
Parties almost every night
Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh, that boy's a hot mess!

You see him there, with a drink in hand
He smiles and you think he's the kind of man
You'd take home to your mother
Or watch a game with your brother
He'll clean up nice just wait and see
but way deep down he'll always be...

Oh, that boy's a hot mess
Yeah, you know the kind
The one that acts refined
But never walks the line
Taking numbers left and right,
Parties almost every night
Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh, that boy's a hot mess!

You can try to tame him, make a name for him
Take your best shot!
You're not the first and you won't be the last
Not by far!

'Cause you know, that boy's a hot mess
He's that wild one, the runaway preacher's son
Who's coming undone, but still having fun.
Taking numbers left and right,
Parties almost every night
Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh, that boy's a hot mess!