Eight years old to the day
You blew your candles off the cake
Wishing too hard for them to stay
You burnt the house down
She held the match, he held her face
You learned to hate your birthday
Calling her bitch, despite your wish
They had to separate
And the room sings
And it sounds like leaving home
And the room sings
We know something you don't
Now he’s quite the stand-up guy
He's stood you up 'least twelve times
And when he finally does arrive
He brings his new wife
The family shrink from second floor
The one he claimed he couldn’t afford
Your mother cries, clings to the floor
You knock his lights out
And the room sings
And it sounds like leaving home
And the room sings
We know something you don't
And the room sings
And it sounds like leaving home
The room sings
"We know something you don't"
The room sings
And it sounds like there's no love