The songs on the radio predicting my moves. Yes I'm sprung and I'm going to fill my cup and two step tonight. The radio continuing to see me a little clearer, all the other boys trying to chase me but ill give you my number. The radio throwing me a curve ball and now I'm raising my weapon to the ghost and stuff and its true I miss you, I miss you. The radio acting like my friend, playing off my broken heart and messed up head. The radio slamming on the breaks and getting me a little freaky and now all I want to do is jump the bones of the next tatted plastic cup holding boy with a snap back and I can't relax because the radio has got me on a feminists kick while I'm looking for dick. Feeling a little jaded and a little built up, looking like a buttercup in a monster mashed up way and the perspective of the radio has got my in high heels and bras and ripped jeans and combat boots. The radio has been shut off and I can't tell if I want a bad ass boy or a hot ass nerd, can't tell if I wanna get high or join the army and I can't decide if the radio knows me at all.