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