Irish

Spare me the drone of your motor mouth whirring

Give them your silly little piece

While I inch my way to some possible redemption

You can't bear the smell of it caked on your feet

So you trample kick make sure the word is out

And you grumble and you stick me with your ego disease

I've met my match

You've put me in my place

Well maybe this is the place

I truly want to be

I look temptation square in the mouth

Look little girl I see all your charms

And I am punched drunk and it's all going south

but don't think I'll fall into your arms

I'm a man who's learned how to get down on my knees

and I know how to beg for the things that I need

Oh the truth is disguised and your lies are revealed

When word gets around that will be the end of me