I am bottled, fizzy water, and you are shaking me up
You are a fingernail, running down the chalkboard
I thought I left in third grade
Now my only, consolation, is that this could not last forever
Even though you're singing and thinking
How well you've got it made

Who are you?
When will you be through?

Yeah, it's just a phase...
It will be over soon
Yeah, it's just a phase
Yeah, it's just a phase

Call it 'women's, intuition', but I think I'm on to something here
Temporaryism has been the black plague
And the Jesus of our age
I know that I sound opinionated, maybe biased
And quite possibly jaded
But sooner than later
They'll be throwing quarters at you on stage

Who are you?
When will you be through?

Yeah, it's just a phase... it will be over soon
Yeah, it's just a phase, and I'm waiting for it to be over too, yeah