Your
hot coffee, my black tea,
I don't know about that.
Oh,
guess we choose to disagree,
but I like your Popeye hat.
Well, your sister always came between us,
claiming she knew best.
But she hitched a wagon to a diplomat,
she moved to Bucharest.
Why,
we just go around and around like a dog fought in a bale.
Oh,
I can't say I ever liked you much,
but you're my kind of bitch.
Oh,
I can't say I ever liked you much,
but you're my kind of bitch.
Bedlams filled the New York street,
they're watching from a crate.
But the thief in you,
sir,
it's no sin,
hell,
to stole them anyway.
We're living cheap in an old hotel,
eating rice and beans.
Staying up late talking politics
with a couple of Times Square queens.
We just turned the heater on,
as long as we could tell.
Oh,
I can't say I ever liked you much,
but you're my kind of bitch.
Oh,
I can't say I ever liked you much,
but you're my kind of bitch.
Now,
somewhere in the sun was always on my mind.
But you were turning from the inside out,
drinking cocoa butter wine.
Well,
you sold your past life back just fine,
I was making plans to leave.
But you trapped me at that ball,
just fell on another New Year's Eve.
So I gave it up for what it's worth,
crawling to your shelf.
Oh,
I can't say I ever liked you much,
but you're my kind of hell.
Oh,
I can't say I ever liked you much,
but you're my kind of hell.
Oh, yeah.
You're my kind of bitch.
All right.