Six More Days.

'til I leave for proper!

Ahhhhh... I usually avoid any type of confrontation
Conversation, in moderation
Lips sealed, but my fingers are flying
As the hours pass they grow more impatient
My phone is mad lettered, especially when I'm sauced up
And I admit that I'm ashamed
But there's Melissa, Tabitha, and Emily
What a toss-up!
But thats the best part of the game.

And I'm really a novice aspirin' alcoholic
Drownin the days pain in house barley and grain
Thinkin' of ways to convince one to join me
in the company
of low life sort, doin' the same.

(So) I start textin'
(Ah) I keep textin'
(Hey) I can't stop,
it's my obsession
(Yep) It's like fishin
and my words are like lures -
if they bite the bait (cool)
if not, call it a night.

We can't.
More like we shouldn't
I know.
And I try
To be a good boy, but its hard.

I start textin'
I keep textin'
I can't stop,
it's my obsession.

Now ask yourself this: Is love a tender thing?
Too rough? Too rude? Too boisterous?
Well, I'll tell you what, man -
I had her once, and
It was fun but not enough.
It's torture, and not mercy.

Heaven is where my phone lives
In my pocket, so cozy; oh what a joy replies give.
It seems Melissa's babysittin
And Theresa's workin late,
But Emily's on her way to East Eleventh on a train
And thats when I remember Pattie from West Philly,
She says I'm in your area, 3 minutes away.

So I stop textin'
No more textin'
hey! yeah right,
it's my obsession.

We can't.
More like we shouldn't
I know.
And I try
To be a good boy, but its hard.

I know you think I'm wreckless, and move so fast (slow down).
I think I love so I told her by the Inter-sex-message (uh-huh).
She wrote back, "Me Too..", I was just sittin' here thinkin' bout you.
I know I want her but I can't and I shouldn't.
Tried to put my phone down, damn! But I couldn't.
Stayed on the phone with her all night long.
Text Message when I'm gone.

We can't.
More like we shouldn't
I know.
And I try
To be a good boy, but its hard.