| Records on the floor
|
| I’m giving back whats yours
|
| Remember us last weekend
|
| Dancing to the Psychedelic Furs
|
| I tried to tell myself
|
| That we could be alright
|
| Now it’s me and my
|
| Cigarettes and alcohol tonight
|
| So screen all the phone calls
|
| And put the chain on the front door
|
| And if you see her
|
| Tell her I don’t live here anymore
|
| Driving neighbors crazy
|
| With after hour fights
|
| Everything makes more sense
|
| Thank God that we broke it off that night
|
| Holding on to you
|
| Is like playing with broken glass
|
| I’m fighting off the memories
|
| And all the living in the past
|
| The post cards in the drawer
|
| The pictures on the wall
|
| The sound of little footsteps
|
| That echo through the hall
|
| The post cards in the drawer
|
| The pictures on the wall
|
| The sound of little footsteps
|
| That echo through the hall
|
| Sound like a heart beat
|
| It’s like a heart beat
|
| It’s like a heart break beat
|
| And it’s beating out of me
|
| So screen all the phone calls
|
| And put the chain on the front door
|
| And if you see her
|
| Tell her I don’t live here anymore
|
| So pull all the shades down
|
| And turn off the radio
|
| And if you see her
|
| Tell her I moved down to Mexico |