If I'm talking to you at the back of the club Why does he walk past me? And why does he rub his shoulder past mine Is it to let me know that he's here Whisper in his ear, from me I don't care
I can't believe that that is what he thinks of you That I would click my fingers tell you to jump And thats what you do I think he needed to trust you A little bit more But I will walk over there and make his head sore
Is he really threatened by the presence of me He won't let you walk or talk He won't let you see what I've got in my pocket for you And think that you'd love to
