Lyrics
I'm out of the picture frame 'cause I'm shedding my skin
So far down a hole I can never go home
Riding over Lake Pontchartrain in a hell of a state
There's so many things that I didn't get done
It's not the type of picture
That you would ever want to take
These aren't the kinds of colors
That you would want them on your cake
Floating in my favorite dress so far outta state
Catching too much heat just for saving my skin
Have a little laugh I guess if it's funny to you
Now I sleep on the ground with the needles and pins
It's not the sort of summer
That you'd spend swimming at the lake
These aren't the kinds of colors
That you would want them on your cake
It's not the type of picture
That you would ever want to take
These aren't the kinds of colors
That you would want them on your cake