Butter Knife to the Gut Lyrics

I'll take this butter knife to the gut

And dance around finally free

'Cause what I really want, what I really want

Is to be

Molded out of butter

Firm to the eyes

And I'll be my own sculptor

Melting at the sides

Sure I'll be greasy

And slick to the touch

But when I look in the mirror I'll be fine

'Cause I can scoop out all the parts that I never wanted

I can slice all the excess off of my gut

Instead of crying on the can, soaked and looking down

I'd never have to sit there again

Once I

Take this butter knife to the gut

And dance around finally free

Cause what I really want, what I really want

Is to be

Molded out of butter

Or maybe paper mache

Doesn't have to be butter

Could be sand, could be clay

I just want to be able

To step back and say

I'm done, I'm ready for display

'Cause in this fictional prayer my perfection is minted

I'd strip off the layers that keep me protected

Cause they make me cry, sitting on the can

And I'll never have to do that again

Once I take this butter knife to the gut

Oh, and dance around, finally free

Cause all I really want, all I really want

All I really want, all I really want

All I really want, all I really want

Is to be