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I can barely feel the sheets with all these crumbs down in my bed Oh no, how can I get to sleep with all this buzzin' in my head? An' who'd have ever thought I'd not complain about a mess? Serves me right, I guess, this is what I get For eatin' crackers with my gin an' drinkin' in my Sunday dress Telephone is by the bottle which is always by my bed Time to time I give it a rattle to make sure that it's not dead I will wait here for your call till I run out of cigarettes I love to play the part of the damsel in distress Flickin' ashes in my coffee, drinkin' in my Sunday dress Well, I've been on the road to this An' I've been on the way to this But who'd have think it'd come to this? Don't let on, you've seen me like this, like this My old transistor's soundin' just as twangy as a Fender My radiator growls like Elvis after Sunday dinner I've drained my last tequila and I've thrown away the blender I've poured out all the wine, from now on nothin' but the best Cognac an' Patsy Cline while drinkin' in my Sunday dress Well, I've been on the road to this An' I've been on the way to this I surely ain't a hypocrite I've had my fun and now I must confess Our reverend is a kingly soul, repents 'em on a dime His Bible is not inked in gold, he is not the cheatin' kind One Sunday after meetin', I was in the greetin' line He said, "I've seen you from the altar gulpin' down communion wine Just remember who's beside you when it's no business of mine" I said, "Remember who's beside you when it's no business of mine" |
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