| I wear my nine-inch heels when we go to bed
|
| I paint the color of my lips blood red
|
| I get so animal like never before
|
| So you press play and I hit record
|
| 'Cause we're dysfunctional physical
|
| Always slamming doors
|
| You're a bitch, throwing fits
|
| Always waging wars
|
| Me and you,
|
| Sad but true
|
| We're not us anymore
|
| But there's still one thing we're good for
|
| I'll give you one last night
|
| So make it twisted
|
| Give you one last shot, go on and hit it
|
| Give you one last time to make me miss it
|
| Baby, love me apocalyptic
|
| Come on!
|
| Give me a red hand print right across my ass
|
| I'm leaving scratches up and down your back
|
| Throw me against the wall, bite me on my neck
|
| Like end of the world, break-up sex
|
| 'Cause we're dysfunctional physical
|
| Always slamming doors
|
| You're a bitch, throwing fits
|
| Always waging wars
|
| Me and you,
|
| Sad but true
|
| We're not us anymore
|
| But there's still one thing we're good for
|
| I'll give you one last night
|
| So make it twisted
|
| Give you one last shot,
|
| Go on and hit it
|
| Give you one last time
|
| To make me miss it
|
| Baby, love me apocalyptic
|
| Oh 'cause no one does it better
|
| No one knows me better
|
| Oh 'cause nothing lasts forever
|
| Nothing lasts forever
|
| It's now or never
|
| I'll give you one last night
|
| So make it twisted
|
| Give you one last shot,
|
| Go on and hit it
|
| Give you one last time
|
| To make me miss it
|
| Baby, love me apocalyptic
|
| Come on |