Candy paint can barely wait, a hit and runner bus
He called it making love but you called it giving up
He called it having sex but you called it one quick fuck
But he isn't calling back so now you're never waking up

Steering column gotta ball 'em, chromed out flashy rims
She called it alcohol but you called it fucking gin
She said to sober up instead you tried to drive to him
But he was out with whats-her-face you're seething to the brim

Six-fo with low doors, tippin' like the song
They called it int'resting but you called it being wrong
They called you the next morning you were way too fucking gone
You were sleeping on the traintracks with a bullet in your yawn

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