Scott, buddy I need your help 'cause
Jackson's laughing at me and the betas kicked us out
And Scott, buddy, please answer your phone
'Cause Derek's in ultra-creeper mode
And oh God, he's tryna be besties with Dad
And oh God, he's using the front door is he mad?
Oh My God, am I in trouble now?

There's no reason that he's leavin'
Dead animals on my window sill
He ain't Batman, I ain't Gotham
Needing watching all night in Beacon Hills
There's no logic to this project of his
slamming me against my will
Onto a wall, the floor, My baby jeep's door
Unless---Oh God, Scott just call me back. Please.

Those aren't your biceps all up in my grill trying to cuddle me close
Those aren't your rock hard abs against my--whoa buddy slow down
Derek, let me go now
It could be sex pollen or strain of wolfsbane
Derek can you back away, 'cause you is ackin' cray cray
It could be witches or hexbags or
Argents or Alpha packs tryna make you into that

There's no basis for my spaces
Being drenched in eau de Derek Hale
There's no excuse for this loose
canon helping dad run errands at the jail
But there's nothing cuter than him tutoring me
Making sure that I don't fail
Chemistry or English
Oh god I have a fetish
For danger (and for Derek). Shit.

Scott, buddy I need your help 'cause
I'm getting major boners from the things that make him feral
Scott, buddy please answer for your phone
Before I
do something stupid
Like give it up to cupid
But my boner's only human...

I'm not lying or denying
whatever it is he wants from me
He's so hot, I'm so not
so excuse me if it's hard to believe
He wants my pants off, with the chance that I
won't ever make him leave
My floor, my bed
If it all goes unsaid that
Derek's got my pants down
Tight lips sealed in a frown
And maybe I'll shut up now