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Verse 1
Now I hate Eight Days a Week
Honestly, it makes me sick
To think of you and her asleep
My childhood song playing on repeat

Verse 2
And they would say your bird can sing
Go ahead and cut the wings
And from a cage, you're listening
My father's name is a buried memory

Chorus
So don't mind me
If I'm throwing stones at your door
Don't blame me
For getting so hurt with something so small
No, don't take it personal
'Cause it's personal

Verse 3
You stole Lucy's diamond rings
Thought you said that you played clean
And honestly, I've heard some things
That make me doubt all your reasoning

Chorus
So don't mind me
If I'm throwing stones at your door
Don't blame me
For getting so hurt with something so small
No, don't take it personal
'Cause it's personal
No, don't take it personal
'Cause it's personal