Oh, you think you'll make it on your own
|
But every time you cry your heart out
|
You just play a part about what might have been.
|
Oh, don't give me bad news on the phone
|
Cause every time I hear that shit ring
|
I listen to your voice sing and I'm turning green.
|
She questions everything you see
|
Every time I climb a sugar hill
|
Sitting on the window sill I'm watching a bee.
|
|
Chorus:
|
Don't give me bad news on the phone!
|
My heart is rolling like a stone
|
Well, I can feel the hot steam coming out of your nostrils
|
And chilling my bones.
|
|
Cry, my oh my oh my oh my
|
Look at all the dirty pictures
|
Acid queens and hipsters passing by.
|
|
Chorus:
|
Don't give me bad news on the phone!
|
My heart is rolling like a stone
|
Well, I can feel the hot steam coming out of your nostrils
|
And chilling my bones.
|
Don't give me bad news on the phone!
|
My heart is rolling like a stone
|
Well, I can feel the hot steam coming out of your nostrils
|
And chilling my bones.
|
|
-----------------
|
Sugar Hill
|
| Kumm |
