Get Down With Your Bad Self

What is left of me sits burning in the bottom of this ashtray
I’m an ugly mess, I’m full of it, and I’m a lame excuse for a poet
It really all comes down to my love for misfortune
A weak stomach and a mouthful of bad intentions. Watch your mouth!
Cause I’m the son of a gun, tempt not one in love
I live my life by a night stand bible from a motel in limbo
I have a way with failure and I’m the poster child for giving up on you
And this lack of belief is what leaves me room for loving you
Relax, come on — relax and give in I was born to make you moan
You let her climb inside your ribs and let her tangle herself up in your bones
Don’t think for a second, that she gives a damn
It’s a shame you try so hard just for a girl. Who doesn’t know your name or
care to remember
And it’s a shame I can’t remember anything
I can’t even recall your taste or the monster that I became
I’ve tasted death, its graced my lips, I wanna give it back
But I want you bad. I want you bad. You better watch your mouth,
I’m the son of a gun