Took a seat in the trees, unscathed
Parents look from the street, unphased
Threw a stick at a mate, too late
Missed his head by an inch, no pain
Feigning defeat, I scream for full attention
Response from the street
Insults from all directions
[Chorus]
All the sins were ornamental
Cover for my disease
Sick of being sentimental
I fake my retreat
Stones thrown from the yard don't land
Graceless in their intents, no chance
But to my relief, I had their full attention
[Chorus]
All my sins were ornamental
Cover for my disease
Sick of being sentimental
I fake my retreat