Tell her this: I don't like to kiss I know that it's something I'll miss Tell her that I'll never be late As long as she'll be there to wait for me Tell her this: my tongue's in a twist I ran through a confident fist Tell her that the Gypsy was real December is what makes the toe cramps and stomach Aches hard to heal And it don't mean a thing If you can't try to be What you're always expecting from me Tell her this: I'll never be rich And Christmas was always a bitch Tell her that I still feel the same But in between me and you, we see things better And it don't mean a thing If you can't try to be What you're always expecting from me Still in my underwear watching some reruns of anything I can't forget New York is still on my mind but I'm trapped here in Tennessee Still with regrets Tell her this: I don't like to kiss I know that it's something I'll miss And it don't mean a thing If you can't try to be What you're always expecting from me No it don't mean a thing If you can't try to be What you're always expecting from me