Shes a Hot Mess (To the tune of Shes a Lady by Tom Jones) Well, shes a Jersey girl, and shes a firestorm, A tornado in heels, she’s far from the norm. Her hair’s big, her laugh’s loud, shes a walking show, She’s spilling her wine as she says, “Let’s go!” Whoa, whoa, whoa, she’s a hot mess. Talkin’ about the queen of the stress. And the chaos, oh yes, she’s a hot mess. She’s got a leopard-print dress, with a ketchup stain, Lost her car in the lot, she’s dancing in the rain. Cursing at the traffic, but she don’t care, Turns up Springsteen and lets down her hair. Whoa, whoa, whoa, she’s a hot mess. Talkin’ about a girl who’s fearless. And her nails are a mess, but she’s shameless. She’ll start a bar fight, then apologize, Cry in the bathroom, but she’s still all smiles. When the party’s dying, she’s just getting lit, Ordering pork roll and cheese, she don’t quit. Whoa, whoa, whoa, she’s a hot mess. Talkin’ about the life of the fest. And her heart’s in the right place, I confess. She’s late to the wedding, but she’s bringing fun, With a flask in her purse and a joke for everyone. She’s a Jersey girl, wild and unrefined, But she’ll stand by your side till the end of time. Whoa, whoa, whoa, she’s a hot mess. Yeah, she’s perfectly, wonderfully wrecked. But I love her to death, she’s my hot mess. [outro][Instrumental Interlude][fadeout][end]

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