Butterflies

Awkwardly shuffled On a two-seater My stomach drops Whenever I see her Here I go again Mind racing through the what-ifs Can't fathom the thought That nothing will happen between us Puke up a storm These fucking ghosts haunt 'Cause I can't handle the spirits Where's an exorcist when you need one? Now all I got Is a migraine And a blurry image of where to Go next I'm vexed with me Get out of my head Get out of my head Get out of my head Get out of my fucking head Go! 1, 2, 3, 4! Feel like something in me died I hate these fucking butterflies!