counting with my fingers

i still count with my fingers but i still manage to manage
i still get by with obviously imaginary advantages
i can list a thousand reasons
but they're not really reasons
and i can tell even more lies
but my reasons are like lies
there must be an extra beat in my heart
because it always beats more than it should
and i can't tell the simplest things apart
but i always say you're the one who's misunderstood
i stand on a stool just so you can look up at me
i stand on a stool just so i don't have trouble seeing
there is no balance in this universe
then why do i never lose my balance on that stool
they tell you that it's not healthy to curse
but you do it anyways because you think you're cool
i can save you from all of the avoidable embarrassments
because your foolishness can create world-loads of entertainment
they laugh at everything nowadays
a kid trips and they laugh nowadays
but please don't retaliate and trip them back
they don't think it's funny, they'll hit you back
but what's the point of this, what's the point of you
what's the point of you if i can see right through you
is it because i knew that the who was you
and that you knew where to find that incredible view
or were you playing pointless but ever so exciting mind tricks
the kind of tricks that only you seem to laugh at
but don't pay attention to them, they're a bunch of dicks
stay calm and collected to avoid immediate combat
because i bet you can count with your fingers faster than them
and that says something about your character
and even though i can't put my finger to the tip of the stem
just remember it has something to do with fingers and character