How Cliche

You think you're an original I've met your type before An artist with a day job But you're calling me the bore Taking selfies in the thrift store You think you look so cool Believe you're the exception When you're really just the rule I thought you special people would go against the grain But when it came to love you were predictably the same How cliche You want the perfect girl Someone who will complete you And give you their whole world How cliche You're looking for the one But all your expectations Are higher than the sun How cliche She's gotta be just right Keep all her imperfections Out of sight You think you're an original It's funny that you do You almost went and got yourself a butterfly tattoo You tried to call me basic All sugar, no spice But every time we went out you'd get vodka on some ice You said you wanted special Not the girl next door It's only when I'm gone you think that maybe I was more How cliche You get the perfect girl But then you keep her guessing And play her for a fool How cliche You say she's not the one Why is it you miss her The moment that she's gone How cliche You're so unsatisfied You think you have the answers But never look inside Maybe someday You'll finally see That the original was me But until then Go have your fun Until your superficial casing Melts in the sun