| You didn’t leave a bar of soap when you left me.
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| You didn’t even leave a towel so I could dry my face.
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| You didn’t even leave a plate for me to eat on.
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| But you left all my empty beer cans all over the place.
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| You didn’t leave my precious black and white TV set.
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| You took the Jimi Hendrix poster that was on my door.
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| You left with my very best friend — our dog Smokey.
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| But I found all the unpaid bills on the kitchen floor.
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| And where in the hell did you go with my toothbrush?
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| And where in the hell did you happen to spend last night?
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| You didn’t leave a bar of soap when you left me.
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| And you didn’t even tell me they was turning out the lights.
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| -- Guitar solo --
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| You didn’t leave my little five dollar alarm clock.
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| You didn’t even leave a note; |
| I guess it’s all been said.
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| You didn’t even leave the cushions for the sofa.
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| And now that I’m used to the couch, you left the bed.
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| And where in the hell did you go with my toothbrush?
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| And where in the hell have you been for the last three days?
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| You didn’t leave a bar of soap when you left me.
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| And you didn’t stick around to see the teardrops on my face. |