| Meet you downstairs in the bar and hurt
|
| Your rolled up sleeves in your skull t-shirt
|
| You say "What did you do with him today?"
|
| And sniffed 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 men down like Roger Moore
|
| I cheated myself
|
| Like I knew I would
|
| I told you I was trouble
|
| You know that I'm no good
|
| Upstairs in bed with my ex boy
|
| He's in a place but I can't get joy
|
| Thinking on you in the final throes
|
| This is when my buzzer goes
|
| Run out to meet you, chips and pitta
|
| You say, "when we're married"
|
| 'cause you're not bitter
|
| "There'll be none of him no more,"
|
| I cried for you on the kitchen floor
|
| I cheated myself
|
| Like I knew I would
|
| I told you I was trouble
|
| You know that I'm no good
|
| Sweet reunion Jamaica and Spain
|
| We're like how we were again
|
| I'm in the tub, you on the seat
|
| Lick your lips as I soap my feet
|
| Then you notice little carpet burn
|
| My stomach drops and my guts churn
|
| You shrug and it's the worst
|
| Who truly stuck the knife in first
|
| I cheated myself
|
| Like I knew I would
|
| I told you I was trouble
|
| You know that I'm no good |