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Off-Broadway Musical
Hot Mess In Manhattan - The Mess Lyrics
(Music and Lyrics by Ryan Scott Oliver - The Mess)
It loses its house keys.
It doesn't match socks. Or shoes.
It misses appointments and exits and never takes hints
Or reads social cues.
It can't recall birthdays.
Some years it forgets its own.
It trips and it slips and it crushes small children;
You might say it's accident prone.
And it's shown
An incredible amount of talent
In attracting all species of freak.
And it thinks Uggs and Polos are chic.
Oh, what is this monster,
Of which I speak?
Oh! It's a mess. It's a mess. It's a mess.
Oh! Like this dress: M-m-mess. Oh, yes.
Oh! It's a mess, It's a mess, It's a mess.
But if you look through it you'll see,
That terrifying, Patience trying mess
Is only me!
Me...
It drops phones in toilets.
Like this one has twice gone pee.
Now just works on speaker,
The screen is reversed,
But it's scented like fresh potpourri.
And you see
This month was bad because I got bedbugs.
(You think she's lying, no she got bedbugs)
And it sucked because I had them once last year
But those creepy bugs came back
And they bit senseless on my arms and thighs.
Oh, what is this monster
With tears in her eyes?
Oh! It's a mess. It's a mess. It's a mess.
Oh! Can't suppress the distress of the mess.
Oh! It's a mess. It's a mess. It's a mess
But if you look through it you'll see
This gay-attracting, Life diffracting mess
Is only...
I do auditions, when I do my song, a random page is gone.
I've dated eight gay men:
Mike, Steve, Joe, Frank, Bill, Tom, Francois, and Ron.
I sublet constantly because I am afraid to get a lease.
I cannot dress for weather, wear a sundress in fourteen degrees.
Don't have a wallet so I use this check presenter with a wad of cash
And maybe fourteen metro cards (With thirty cents apiece...)
Oh, for peace...
Give me peace!
Oh! I'm a mess! They're a mess! We're a mess!
With I confess I. B. S.
(Ugh……..)
Oh—!
God! Who's a mess? Someone guess. (You.)
Oh! Love the mess! Love the mess! Love the mess!
Please love the mess! Love the mess! Love the mess...
Won't somebody look through and see
The mess
The mess
The mess
Is only me?
(Oh, she's a mess, she's a mess, she's a mess)
It's only me!
(Oh, she's a mess, she's a mess, she's a mess)
It's only me!
Read more: Hot Mess In Manhattan Musical Lyrics
The Mess Lyrics Hot Mess In Manhattan
Hot Mess In Manhattan Songs Lyrics
Own It
Own It - Lower
Own It - Two Girls
Running
Sleep Song
The Mess
The Text Message Song
Union Square
Starbucks
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