1-2-3-4, count 96 more 

and then come and find me 

cause im hiding, baby 

not in the closet or the door 

or down in the playroom where we used to 

play soccer and i'd grease the floor 

with lysol and love 



(chorus) 

right now gotta get something straight 

i can count backwards and make the grades 

i will let you carry my books 

thru those pre-school days 



try to tag me in the laundry chute 

where i'd grab your arm and come crashing down 

like bmx racers over double jumps 

those sentimental days plotting all the ways 

throwing snowballs at innocent passing cars 

the last laugh was never ours 



(chorus & repeat) 



and i remember playing games 

walking on bar stools with alias names 

and holding our breath, the floor a fiery 

toxic death, baby 

and i would always get my sister straight 

trash the dollhouse with ig-88 

and my han solo, in his hoth battle 

gear clothes 



(chorus)