Little buttercup
You are coming up into the most frantic high
And all time low
In the summer sun
As the flowers bloom into the softest faces with crossed eyes
Complete with bow-ties
And I've got a plan
To make me a man
On the morning news
Anchors sang the news
Reporting the most tragic headlines again
One two three four five
Of my friends and I all strapped in the seats of a rigged car
We didn't get far
And I've got a plan
To make me a man
And I've got a plan
To make me a man