| Your hot coffee and my black tea,
|
| I don’t know about that,
|
| Oh I guess we choose to disagree,
|
| But I like your pork pie hat,
|
| Your sister always came
|
| between us,
|
| Claiming she knew best,
|
| But she hitched her wagon to a diplomat
|
| And moved to Bucharest,
|
| While we just go around and round,
|
| Like a dull thud in a bell
|
| Oh I can’t say I ever
|
| liked you much,
|
| But you’re my kind of hell,
|
| Oh I can’t say I ever
|
| liked you much,
|
| But you’re my kind of hell
|
| Peddlers filled the
|
| New York streets,
|
| Selling watches from a tray,
|
| The thief in you said,
|
| «it's no sin,
|
| Hell they stole ‘em anyway»,
|
| We were living cheap
|
| in an old hotel,
|
| Eating rice and beans,
|
| Staying up late talking politics
|
| With a couple of
|
| Times Square queens,
|
| But we just turned the heat up on
|
| The stories we could tell
|
| Oh I can’t say I ever
|
| liked you much,
|
| But you’re my kind of hell,
|
| Oh I can’t say I ever
|
| liked you much,
|
| But you’re my kind of hell
|
| An island somewhere in the sun
|
| Was always on my mind,
|
| But you tanned from the inside out,
|
| Drinking cocoa butter wine,
|
| While you sold your past
|
| like Baptist fire,
|
| I was making plans to leave,
|
| But you trapped me as that
|
| ball just fell
|
| On another New Year’s Eve,
|
| So I gave it up for what it’s worth
|
| And crawled into your shell
|
| Oh I can’t say I ever
|
| liked you much,
|
| But you’re my kind of hell,
|
| Oh I can’t say I ever
|
| liked you much,
|
| But you’re my kind of hell |