Cut it out. Your self-inflicted pain. It's getting too routine. The crowds are catching on. To the self-inflicted song. Well, here we go again. The art of acting weak.
Your gentleman caller,. Well, he's been calling on another. He loves his forbidden fruit.. And as it dribbles down his chin. He cries, "baby, I've been drinking with some friends! now how 'bout a little kiss...".