Meet you downstairs in the bar and heard,
Your rolled up sleeves, in your skull t-shirt.
You say why did you do it with him today?
And sniff me out like I was Tanqueray.
Cause you're my fella, my guy,
Hand me your Stella and fly.
By the time I'm out the door,
You tear me down like Roger Moore .
I cheated myself,
Like I knew I would.
I told ya, I was trouble,
You know that I'm no good.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
You Know I'm No Good
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