| I wrote a goodbye note in lipstick on your arm when you passed out,
|
| I couldn’t bring myself to call, except to call it quits,
|
| Best friends, ex-friends to the end,
|
| Better off as lovers and not the other way around,
|
| Racing through the city, windows down,
|
| In the back of yellow-checkered cars,
|
| You’re wrong,
|
| Are we all wrong?
|
| You’re wrong,
|
| Are we all wrong?
|
| This city says;
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| Come Hell or high water, when I’m feeling hot and wet,
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| I can’t commit to a thing, be it heart or hospital,
|
| Best friends, ex-friends to the end,
|
| Better off as lovers and not the other way around,
|
| Racing through the city, windows down,
|
| In the back of yellow-checkered cars,
|
| You’re wrong,
|
| Are we all wrong?
|
| The tombstones are waiting,
|
| They were half engraved,
|
| They knew it was over,
|
| Just didn’t know the date.
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| And I cast a spell over the West to make you think of me,
|
| The same way I think of you,
|
| This is a love song in my own way,
|
| Happily ever after, below the waist.
|
| Best friends, ex-friends to the end,
|
| Better off as lovers,
|
| Racing through the city, windows down,
|
| In the back of yellow-checkered cars,
|
| Yo-ho ho. |
| Woah-oh-oh.
|
| (Are we)
|
| Yo-ho ho. |
| Woah-oh-oh.
|
| Yo-ho ho. |
| Woah-oh-oh.
|
| (Are we)
|
| Yo-ho ho. |
| Woah-oh-oh
|
| Best friends, ex-friends to the end,
|
| Better off as lovers and not the other way around,
|
| Ex-friends to the end, and better off as lo-ho-oh-woah-woah-oh. |