Texty: Brand New. Me Vs. Maradona Vs. Elvis.

With one or two I get used to the room. We go slow when we first make our moves. But five or six bring you out to the car. Number nine with my head on the bar. And it's sad, but true. Out of cash and I owe. I got you. Desperate desires and unadmirable plans. My tongue will taste the gin and malicious intent. Bring you back to the bar. Get you out of the cold. A sober straight face gets you out of your clothes. And they're scared that we know all the crimes they'll commit. Who they'll kiss before they get home. I will lie awake. Lie for fun and fake the way I hold you. Then you'll fall for every empty word I say. Barely conscious in the door where you stand. Your eyes are filing sleep while your mouth makes your demands. You laugh at every word, trying hard to be cute. I almost feel sorry for what I'm gonna do. And your hair smells of smoke. Who will cast the first stone? You can't sit or spend the night all alone. Brass buttons on your coat hold the cold in the shape of a heart that they cut out of stone.
You're using all your looks that you've thrown from the start. If you let me have my way, I swear I'll tear you apart. Cause it's all you can be. You're a drunk and you're scared. It's ladies night. All the girls drink for free. I will lie awake. Lie for fun and fake the way I hold you. Then you'll fall for every empty word I say