Song parody of
Your Kind
by Jimmy Welsh
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You're wrong about the sentiment I'd left before I'd gone.
You're really not the one who coined the dance I'd done.
I'd longed for the extravagant and left myself with some.
Coincidence or none? I reminisce for fun.
You used to tell me I was your kind
With the expression of a street mime.
You might be set, indifferent, or nauseous at the thought.
I'm really not the one you got those letters from.
I'll admit a little bit, but not that I was wrong.
Self-destructive, some. I reminisce for fun.
You used to tell me I was your kind
With the inflection of a wind chime.
Now, I'm sure you're somewhere else, and I'm sure that it helps
That I've self-condemned, I can talk to myself.
But you used to tell me I was your kind.
The statuette I underwent and warranted was not.
You're really not the one who tightened up my tongue.
This midinette that I invent is charmed by every fault.
If there existed one, I'd reminisce for fun.
You used to tell me I was your kind, (I used to say a lot of things)
With the expression of a street mime, (The fuck is that supposed to mean?)
With the inflection of a wind chime, (These parallels seem cursory)
With the attention of a headline, (Your head never belonged to me)
No apprehension in your wide eyes, (I hesitated constantly)
You used to tell me I was your kind.
You're wrong about the sentiment I'd left before I'd gone.
You're really not the one who coined the dance I'd done.
I'd longed for the extravagant and left myself with some.
Coincidence or none? I reminisce for fun.
You used to tell me I was your kind
With the expression of a street mime.
You might be set, indifferent, or nauseous at the thought.
I'm really not the one you got those letters from.
I'll admit a little bit, but not that I was wrong.
Self-destructive, some. I reminisce for fun.
You used to tell me I was your kind
With the inflection of a wind chime.
Now, I'm sure you're somewhere else, and I'm sure that it helps
That I've self-condemned, I can talk to myself.
But you used to tell me I was your kind.
The statuette I underwent and warranted was not.
You're really not the one who tightened up my tongue.
This midinette that I invent is charmed by every fault.
If there existed one, I'd reminisce for fun.
You used to tell me I was your kind, (I used to say a lot of things)
With the expression of a street mime, (The fuck is that supposed to mean?)
With the inflection of a wind chime, (These parallels seem cursory)
With the attention of a headline, (Your head never belonged to me)
No apprehension in your wide eyes, (I hesitated constantly)
You used to tell me I was your kind.
