Spaghetti Strapped

Hey Girl

What you lookin' like?

I have seen you get up, and go to that bathroom

Like five or six times in the last twenty minutes

What the hell's going on?

Under the great wide gray sky

Still the same guy watching the paint dry

With bloodshot snake eyes

My lady still hates me like you know she should

Because the simple things in life don't get overlooked

But now I'm here with a glass full of beer

Positioned in my chair to watch your ass from a mirror

Hungover and horny, dirty old man

Weed junky drunk leaving tips for the dope man

I'll impress her with my jukebox selections

Spit a couple words in exchange for affection

And if those legs work as good as they look girl

You can walk up and down the page in my book

Can you spell secret?

Come get your feet wet

Let me make up pet names for all your little regrets

(Here let me buy you a drink as a token of my erection)

Hoping that you'll open up and put down your weapons

Up, up, girl let your strap down, put your strap down

Up, up, girl put your strap down

Spaghetti strapped, another lap around the track

I had to suffer punching onto somebody's back

What's up with that?

Where's the independence?

Find the dotted line between acquainted with and friendship

But damn got head rushed, can't stop

What's the big fuss it was just a little hand job

So what if her friend took off her bra and socks and drawers

It was like a massage-a-trois

Why the witnesses always positioned up in your business

Like they're invested in your best interests

Who I be with, and who I leave with

Affects this vicarious life that the weak live

Guess now the pressure's on me to charm you

Relieve you of your weapon, disarm you

See if I can get you off this barstool

We all wanna know if I can get you out your clothes girl

From the star-fuckers to the hard lovers

Passing judgment on none

Everyone's got scars mother

Some of them will never heal

Sometimes you gotta step aside; you wanna see how the weather feels

You can't avoid them or fill a void with 'em

If you're nuts you'll enjoy trying to make him your boyfriend

I'm like a pile of paper and ribbons the day after Christmas

(Naw, naw for real I will take my clothes off right here girl)

Who wants to help me, I'm looking for a muse

This time around I'm trying to cook up the blues

Let's make a little love, a little hate

A little give and take and give it to the kids that can relate

And we don't even have a choice

It's the balance, the bits between your ears and my voice

So praise God that the rain ain't stopped

Let's head to my spot and take that wet tank-top off now