Probably less blurry version here; her record company is run by clods.
I love this song, but the second verse sucks, and since the album ain’t out yet there’s still time. She can do better. This is my assertion.
Let’s get this done. Current, woeful version:
The waiter just took my table
And gave it to Jessica Simps (shit!)
I guess I’ll go sit with drumboy
At least he’ll know how to hit (oops!)
What if this song’s on the radio?
Then somebody’s gonna die. [laughter]
I’m gonna get in trouble
My ex will start a fight
The drumboy part is a non-sequitur, “at least he’ll know how to hit” is fairly weak as insults go and barely rhymes, and the whole everyone-will-be-so-mad-at-me angle is way too meta and precocious, but what this basically boils down to is “Jessica Simps” is unconscionable. If you must insult her specifically, I dare say it’s worth restructuring a few syllables. And if she’s merely a randomly chosen example of the vapid tabloid bimbo consortium to which you, Pink, supply a refreshing, volatile, “punk-rock” anecdote, why don’t you take three more minutes here and actually find someone that actually fits your, like, meter. Hell, you don’t even have to change the first name: Jessica Biel. Which leads rhyme-scheme-wise to “At least he’ll know how to feel,” sort of a Botox thing, I don’t know, I’m not the expert here, but you totally phoned this in. Fix it.
(Internet lyrics sites seem to contend that we should read that line as “Jessica Simps-Shit,” like a clever play on her name, instead of “son” she says “shit,” you see, hahahaha, that’s terrible.)
(And yes I’ve considered the faint possibility that Pink is playing off the slang term “simp,” defined as “a simple or foolish person,” but, I mean, come on.)