Tic Lyrics - Betty - Helmet

The tic begins where's the manned end? 

The climate change will never get in 

Silent and strong and prepossessed 

You never need to make your own mess 

Weasel to me in charming to some 

Loathsome and glib 

Habits like self-love 

Wearing slim fast you carve your niche 

Lean smug back and work your pitch 

And all the way I'm gone, no 

Demon race to find 

You paint it up and know that 

Any face can lie 

Affect my greatest style, what 

Suits me best of all 

Keep my pocket filled, lean right and 

Fall