In the Fridge

Oh-oh. Oh, oh-oh. Hey, hey. Oh-oh. Yeah, yeah. Oh. There's a takeout box way in the back. Rice on the lid, sauce on the flaps. Tuesday noodles from a Sunday plan. Shining like treasure in a Tupperware land. Leftovers in the fridge callin' my name again I say I'll start fresh tomorrow, then I crack That door at ten. Leftovers in the fridge. Oh, Cold comfort on a plate. Oh, oh, Little bit stale, still perfect for every Half-hearted half midnight break. Post-it on the milk, "Please, this time, don't Drink." Half a lime, three grapes, one mystery pink. Roommate's cake slice with a knife line scar. I swear I leave it, but my hand goes Far. Oh, no. Leftovers in the fridge Callin' my name again I say I'll start fresh Tomorrow, then I crack that door at ten. Leftovers in the fridge. Oh, oh, comfort on a plate. Oh, oh. Little bit wrong, still perfect for every Half-hearted half midnight break. I make big plans, spin grand diets, But the light hums on in that hummin' quiet. And it's just me and a plastic box and The truth that I can't throw much away. Ooh. Leftovers in the fridge Callin' my name again I say I'll change in The mornin', but I'm face-first there at ten. Leftovers in the fridge. Oh, oh, My heart in cling film too. Oh, oh. Savin' old days in small containers, Hopin' some still taste like you. Oh, oh, oh, oh. Oh-oh.