Messy
Lola Young · Messy
So why would you leave me waiting outside the station?
When it was like minus 4 degrees and I
I get what you're saying
I just really don't want to hear it right now
Can you shut up for like once in your life?
Listen to me
I took your nice words of advice about
How you think I'm gonna die
Lucky if I turned 33
Okay, so yeah, I smoke like a chimney
I'm not skinny and I pull a Britney
Every other week
But cut me some slack
Who do you want me to be?
'Cause I'm too messy
And then I'm too fucking clean
You told me, "Get a job"
And you ask where the hell I've been
And I'm too perfect
'Til I open my big mouth
I want to be me
Is that not allowed?
And I'm too clever
And then I'm too fucking dumb
You hate it when I cry
Unless it's that time of the month
And I'm too perfect
'Til I show you that I'm not
A thousand people I could be for you
And you hate the fucking lot
You hate the fucking lot
You hate the fucking lot
Hey, hey
It's taking you ages
You still don't get the hint
I'm not asking for pages
But one text or two would be nice
And please, don't pull those faces
When I've been out working my arse off all day
It's just one bottle of wine or two
But hey, you can't even talk
You smoke weed just to help you sleep
Then why you're out getting stoned at 4 o'clock
And then you come home to me
And don't say hello
'Cause I got high again
And forgot to fold my clothes
'Cause I'm too messy
And then I'm too fucking clean
You told me, "Get a job"
And you ask where the hell I've been
And I'm too perfect
'Til I open my big mouth
I want to be me
Is that not allowed?
And I'm too clever
And then I'm too fucking dumb
You hate it when I cry
Unless it's that time of the month
And I'm too perfect
'Til I show you that I'm not
A thousand people I could be for you
And you hate the fucking lot
You hate the fucking lot
You hate the fucking lot
And I'm too messy
And then I'm too fucking clean
You told me, "Get a job"
And you ask where the hell I've been
And I'm too perfect
'Til I open my big mouth
I want to be me
Is that not allowed?
And I'm too clever
And then I'm too fucking dumb
You hate it when I cry
Unless it's that time of the month
And I'm too perfect
'Til I show you that I'm not
A thousand people I could be for you
And you hate the fucking lot
You hate the fucking lot
You hate the fucking lot
You hate the fucking lot
You hate the fucking lot
About Messy
"Messy" finds Lola Young in a pop-minded frame, where a clear central idea and emotional directness are the real strengths. The song works best when its main melodic and rhythmic ideas are allowed to speak plainly, without being crowded by unnecessary decoration. There is a welcome sense of proportion in the way the music presents itself: the hook has room to land, while the surrounding moments support it instead of competing for attention. That restraint gives the performance room to breathe and makes the emotional color feel earned rather than imposed. For listeners returning to Lola Young, the song offers a compact example of how mood, pacing, and a recognizable point of view can meet in one place. It is a track for focused listening, especially when the details around the main idea begin to reveal their own quiet pull. The clarity of that approach is its own strength, because it lets the feeling come through without turning every moment into a dramatic demand. Even when it aims for immediacy, the track avoids feeling disposable because its atmosphere remains distinct after the final note. Its emotional center stays firmly in view throughout.