| She’s got tangled hair and cigarettes
|
| Cursing like a sailor on the ocean in her eyes
|
| But she’s not my type at all
|
| Five star dinner with a t-shirt on
|
| Laughing too loud and a bit too long
|
| And I think she’s not my type at all
|
| She’s got pieces of me, wrapped around her fingertips
|
| Started slow but moving quickly to her heaven
|
| No she’s not my type at all
|
| No she’s not my type at all
|
| She’s got a plastic ring on her left hand from her boyfriend
|
| And a chip on her shoulder from her mom
|
| And she’s not my type at all
|
| It’s all so right
|
| It’s also wrong
|
| Probably be gone by the end of this song
|
| And she’s not my type at all
|
| She’s got pieces of me, wrapped around her fingertips
|
| Started slow but moving quickly to her heaven
|
| No she’s not my type at all
|
| No she’s not my type at all
|
| No she’s not, no she’s not, no she’s not
|
| No she’s not my type at all
|
| I am something else
|
| When she says my name
|
| Heaven bound, I lose myself
|
| But she’s not my type at all
|
| No she’s not my type at all
|
| She’s got pieces of me, wrapped around her fingers
|
| She’s got pieces, wrapped around her fingertips
|
| Started slow but moving quickly to her heaven, heaven
|
| No she’s not my type at all
|
| No she’s not my type at all
|
| No she’s not my type at all |