The clock has ticked eleven and the place is clear Reality is kicking in and so is my beer I don't make excuses when it's all my fault If a heart is made of money he's cleaned out my vault
I feel a little wounded and it isn't fair To sit inside a parlour and see him standing over there As smug as a robber that a cop can't catch The lipstick on his collar doesn't seem to match mine
Doesn't seem to match mine
Now joe behind the bar is offering advice Cause i'm a broken record and he has to tell me twice Why don't i understand that he just can't change I wanna be his woman not his weekend dame
Now joe his eyes are rollin' says it's just too bad And he'll be back tomorrow on my heart-beat crash I'd like to say goodbye, but hello is the match Though the lipstick on his collar never seems to match mine
