Her Story

It seems to me you're slippin' Into some kinda slump. To get your juices flowing now You hafta prime your pump. I usta hafta fight you off To keep your hands in check. Now you're busy squeezin' Them cold bottles by the neck. This is your last call, baby, Tell me where do I stand? Would you rather have hot lovin' Or a cold one in your hand? I usta light your fire, babe; Now I can light your breath. I'm not about to wait and watch You drink yourself to death. It's closing time for us unless You're turning off your spout. Was that a pass you made at me When you were passing out? This is your last call, baby, Tell me where do you stand? Would you rather have hot lovin' Or a cold one in your hand?