| 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 |