The doors are slamming upstairs
And only quarter to ten
I surely don't need the trouble
But I've always liked a woman with a bad taste in men

You say the boy was a son of a bitch
Who pulled the usual stuff
You've had it right up to here
Well I guess your expectations have been lowered enough

You been around, you been screwed around
You're just the kind of lover I need
When you've got nothing to lose
Then you're ready for me

Sister, I'll never lie
My truth is bad enough
So don't say I never warned you
When you're making voodoo dolls with needles through the crotch