The doors are slamming upstairs And only quarter to ten I surely don't need the trouble But I've always liked a woman with a bad taste in men You say the boy was a son of a bitch Who pulled the usual stuff You've had it right up to here Well I guess your expectations have been lowered enough You been around, you been screwed around You're just the kind of lover I need When you've got nothing to lose Then you're ready for me Sister, I'll never lie My truth is bad enough So don't say I never warned you When you're making voodoo dolls with needles through the crotch