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Baby's Tired Of Being Called Baby
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Well the narrator can't seem to remember his woman's name,and she seems to be a little perturbed by that,if ya know what I'm saying...
alternative classical country contemporary adult dirty comedy insanity laidback filthy
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Solo original acoustic songs looking for someone to beg,borrow or steal and make famous,because Lord knows I ain't got the guts.Taking the 'O' out of Country,if
The Ultimate Middle Aged One Man Boy Band
Song Info
Genre
Blues • Country Blues
Charts
Peak #85
Peak in subgenre #15
Author
Doug Zozula
Rights
2005 lawsuitmusic.
Uploaded
January 17, 2007
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.1 MB • 160 kbps • 4:30
Lyrics
She thinks 3 AM is far too late But when I get going it just can't wait A time to recollect my thoughts And get a grip,connect the dots About her wicked ways What can I do when all she plays Are subtle little head games and All I play are songs that she can't stand like... Baby's tired of being called baby Baby's tired of playing the same old game Baby's tired of being called baby The problem is I can't recall her name. Well what happened to the way She used to serve me night and day And every little whim I had She catered to,it made her glad To buff my gun and groom my hair I'd call her "Hun", she didn't care But now it seems my pet names just Ain't good enough for her, it must mean... Baby's tired of being called baby Baby says I have myself to blame Baby's tired of being called baby It's just too damn bad I can't recall her name 'cause she's tired of being called baby. Well I think it started with a 'C' Something like Collette or maybe Cloret,no wait,Cloret's a refreshing breath mint I know it isn't Lola or Louise These are girls in my fantasies But I don't know why Baby won't give me a hint. Yahh you know how it is... We ain't communicating much anymore And I guess I understand Last night she was almost out the door And I was talking to her hand I tried these things called "apologies" Man I just wanted to hold her And so I got down on my knees and took her hand and told her... That a rose by any other name Would smell as sweet but that's a lame Attempt to save a Freudian slip And fall he's swaying on the tip Of my tongue shouting names of old Romances spurned and put on hold I bite my lip and feel it bleed A good white lie is what I need... To stall for time to think of what To tell her I'm getting this gut Feeling of what might happen next No dice no hope no love no sex No way to make up for The things I took for granted or The weeds of desperation grown Where the seeds of desire were sown I think Baby's tired of being called baby But Baby's in my Baby Hall of Shame Baby's tired of being called baby And I guess I never will recall her name And she's tired of being called baby...
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