Oh, good heavens, baby, where's my medicine?
I must have left it outside with my etiquette
The undertaker's rule of thumb
It's hard to talk with a novocain tongue
This room smells like hotel Illness
The scars I hide are now your business
I can't seem to make hair nor hide of this
No, baby, love is not a punishment
Hypnotize by your rotten behavior
This week's fashion is last year's flavor
I got a head full of sermons and a mouth full of spiders
The politics of the world's greatest liar
So tell me, baby, is it true all those things That they say about you
Writer(s): Rich Robinson, Chris Robinson
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