Barbieland

Fuck you, Fuck you, and Fuck your bitch ass too.

And while I’m on the topic, Fuck your boyfriend and his ruse.

I’d say you’re all fucked up, but then I’d sure be screwed.

Cuz while there’s only one of me there’s fucking four of you.

The real reason I don’t, tell the fucking truth,

Is cause I’m too nice, to say that I hate you.

I hate how you text, as soon as you wake up,

And tell me that you need me, when you fall to pick you up.

I hate those petty words, that don’t mean the same to you,

As they do to me, I don’t fucking “need you.”

I honestly don’t care, if you slaved over your hair,

I’m so tired of talking, about the shit you wear.

I don’t want to discuss, what you did all day.

And I sure as hell don’t want, to drop by to just say “Hey.”

I don’t want to be mean, but when you’re polished to a gleam,

You remind me of a Barbie, only fit for Charlie Sheen.

I’m sure I’m not “the guy,” and I don’t want to be.

Keep your I love you’s, your wedding, and your ring.

Because, in the end, they don’t mean a thing.

I don’t need a ring, to look into your eyes,

And you don’t need make-up, to put up a disguise.

I’m tired of the fakeness, the chicks that are weightless,

Eat a fucking brownie, and don’t make those stupid faces.

The problem here is this, I don’t give a shit,

If you think that you need me, pack your bags and get off my ship.

I never want to see, your fucking face again,

Not because you’re ugly, but because you did it again.

STOP SAYING I LOVE YOU, YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT MEANS!

Yea you think you do, but let me intervene.

When you say I love you, all that I can see,

Is that look in your eyes, that look of basic need.

I know I’m amazing, I’m funny and I’m hot.

On top of all that, I’m what those other guys are not.

But *warning,* I don’t “need” you.

I hate it that you need me, it makes me want to puke.

A real woman owns, the ground that she walks on,

A real woman knows, she’s hot and you’re not.

A real woman’s smart, even when she’s dumb.

A real woman isn’t scared, she won’t ever run.

She won’t ever need you, the moment that she does.

She’ll drop you like shit, from a giraffe with the runs.

She won’t text you every second, or call you every hour,

She doesn’t give a fuck, if your day’s been really sour.

If you said to her, “I’m sorry, but we’re through.”.

This awesome girl would say, “Your loss, fuck you.”

She wouldn’t shed a tear or wonder what to do.

She would go get drunk, and maybe dance with someone new.

If only, If only, this weren’t the case.

Real women, are extinct. All that’s left are fakes