I'm just really hoping she doesn't drop all her spaghetti and ruin everything at this point
Her palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy
There's vomit on her sweater already, mom's spaghetti
She's nervous, but on the surface she looks calm and ready
To drop bombs, but she keeps on forgettin'
What she wrote down, the whole crowd goes so loud
She opens his mouth, but the words won't come out
She's chokin', how, everybody's jokin' now
The clocks run out, times up, over, blaow!