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?
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