There's a lit cigarette burning on the couch beside me There's a girl, way too drunk, insisting she's still driving You shouldn't have brought me to the party I'll just sit, overthink, watch your friends, have a drink Then I'll go home alone when you pass out on the couch You always say, I kill the mood when all I do, is tell the truth Does it always do this shit to you Make you so uncomfortable? I see you scratching at your wrists I pick up quick on nervous tics But we're going out cause fuck this shit If I move enough I can't be depressed- right? You shouldn't have brought me To your party When all your friends say I'm A fucking killjoy You shouldn't have brought me To your party When all your friends say I'm A fucking killjoy- am I your fucking killjoy baby?