I am not the kind of girl, who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion

but you, are not the kind of boy, who should be marrying the wrong girl.

I sneak in and see your friends and her snotty little family all dressed in pastel

And she is yelling at the bridesmaid. Somewhere back inside a room wearing a gown shaped like a pastry.

This is surely not what you thought that it would be.

I lose myself in a daydream, where I stand and say.

Don’t say yes, run away now, I’ll meet you when you out of the mosque at the back door.

Don’t wait or say a single vow. You need to hear me out and they said speak now.

Fun gestures are exchanged.

And the organ starts to play a song that sounds like a death march. And I am hiding in the curtains. It seems like I was uninvited by your lovely bride-to-be.

She floats down the aisle like a pageant queen.

but I know you wish it was me

You wish it was me

Don’t you?