Intro – DJ whisper over bass]
House rules are missing…
Crayons are… digesting.
Somebody crank the bubble machine before the kid explains reproduction again.
[Chorus]
They color outside the lines ’cause they ate the crayon,
Now they’re trippin’ neon like a dollar‑store seance.
Teacher says “that’s chaos,” we call it design—
Body’s full of Cerulean, soul’s full of shrine.
Honestly? Same. Pass me that teal,
Life’s too short for beige and a balanced meal.
Neurospicy, half angel, half fight,
Shoutin’ unfiltered truth at the black‑light night.
[Verse 1]
They’re six going on cult‑leader, sermon in Crocs,
Asked “Why does Grandpa need two pillbox locks?”
Tried to toast Legos, called it “plastic fondue,”
Now Alexa’s in therapy—join the queue.
They catch innuendo like Pokémon Rare,
Told my boss, “Dad’s always swiping on Tinder, I swear.”
(He meant TikTok… I think. The line is blurry.)
HR emailed me back with a “No‑worry” emoji.
[Pre‑Chorus]
They stim to the drop, they roast to the hook,
Asked if “hell” has Wi‑Fi or just Facebook.
If life hands ‘em lines, they redraw the map—
Devoured the compass and called it a snack.
[Chorus]
Yeah, they color outside the lines ’cause they ate the crayon,
Left a mural on the dog—“modern art,” they say on.
Said the F‑word once, thought it meant “friend,”
Now they greet the mailman like “What’s up, F‑—” THE END!
Honestly? Same. I slip too,
We’re PG‑13 with a twist of taboo.
Neurodivergent, chaos prime,
Mic’d‑up munchkin with impeccable timing.
[Bridge – breakbeat, crowd chant “NOM‑NOM!” every pause]
Dark humor sip? NOM‑NOM!
Crayon dip? NOM‑NOM!
Questions on death while they floss their hip? NOM‑NOM!
We laugh so we don’t lose our ship—you dig?
[Verse 2]
Asked if “Plan B” is like an alphabet snack,
Then tried to sell condoms as “balloon‑dogs” in a pack.
They’re rated E for Everyone… but the commentary’s M,
Told the priest “Nice dress, dude,” then dabbed at the hem.
Down‑right dazzling, spectrum‑level fast,
Won a staring contest with the iPhone’s glass.
They said, “Dad, when you’re gone, can I keep your debt?”
Sure, kid—just add it to the yogurt you left on the vet.
[Final Chorus]
They color outside the lines ’cause they ate the crayon,
Now the rulebook’s mulch and the breakables play on.
Laugh through the madness, dance through the dread,
If weird is a weapon, we’re armed and ahead.
Honestly? Same. Chaos feels right—
Spill some glow‑stick juice, toast the misfit night.
Neurospicy, snack‑powered shine,
Party royale—no lines, just vibe.
[Outro – whispered confessional]
If you see bite marks on the mauve,
That was dinner.
If you hear random cuss words in the baby monitor,
That was… also dinner.
Color outside the lines—because the lines taste terrible.
Beat fades, glitter settles… babysitter quits. 🎉
