“Too Tired to Walk, Too Stoned to Drive.”

Some lyrics (punk rock, G and F):

You call me on the telephone everyday

You’ve got nothing to say. You just want to say ‘hey’.

Ask me how I’m doin’, say I sound bored.

That’s a brilliant observation. You’ve got me floored.

Chorus:

I’m bored with you, bored with you.

So hang up the phone; this conversation is through.

I’m bored with you, bored with you.

So get of my way; I’ve got other things to do.

You were up all night dancing to the Tennessee waltz.

The way you move is one of your biggest faults,

At least as far as I can tell.

But you’re fatally attracted to the smell of romance.

GGFGFGGFGFGGFGFGG

D Eb C Bb

You give me no choice because you’re unable

To hear my voice when we’re at the bargaining table

In an abandoned mind.

When I hear your name,
I break out in a cold, cold sweat.
Clearly I’m not over you yet.

I didn’t think no one would blame me,
I had a bad excuse.

But if you think you’ve won
Remember it’s not a game, dear;
It’s a search for the truth.

Late last night I googled your name.
I read your blog and saw that you’d done the same
For me.

You wouldn’t know the truth if it spit in your eye

Hours and hours
In the clutch of your tantric powers
Circe, Circe
Don’t let me go.
Show me no mercy.
I’m a pig, I know.