Thursday night, everything's fine, except you've got that look in your eye when I'm tellin' a story and you find it boring, you're thinking of something to say. You'll go along with it then drop it and humiliate me in front of our friends.
Then I'll use that voice that you find annoyin' and say something like "Yeah, intelligent input, darlin', why don't you just have another beer then?"
Then you'll call me a bitch and everyone we're with will be embarrassed, and I wont give a shit.
You said I must eat so many lemons 'cause I am so bitter. I said "I'd rather be with your friends mate 'cause they are much fitter".
Yes, it was childish and you got aggressive, and I must admit that I was a bit scared, but it gives me thrills to wind you up.
Your face is pasty 'cause you've gone and got so wasted, what a surprise. Don't want to look at your face 'cause it's makin' me sick.
You've gone and got sick on my trainers, I only got these yesterday. Oh, my gosh, I cannot be bothered with this.
Well, I'll leave you there 'till the mornin', and I purposely won't turn the heating on, and dear God, I hope I'm not stuck with this one.
My fingertips are holding onto the cracks in our foundation and I know that I should let go, but I can't. And every time we fight I know it's not right, every time that you're upset and I smile. I know I should forget, but I can't.