Baby from 7-inch by Sad Baxter

I GREW UP IN A FUNERAL HOME, IN THE SOUTH
CATCHING LIGHTNING BUGS
THAT STUNG ME AS I SWALLOWED THEM DOWN
WATCHING UGLY PEOPLE,
SULKING AS THEY'D DRIVE ON BY

I COULD MAKE YOU SO HAPPY, BABY
MAKE YOU SO HAPPY

CHECKING INTO MY REGULAR STAY AGAIN
THIS TIME NOBODY'S TO BLAME
BUT THE DEVIL'S SIN.
EATING PILLS AND THOUGHTS OF
DROWNING MYSELF IN THE TUB

I COULD MAKE YOU SO HAPPY, BABY
YOU'D BE PROUD OF ME, BABY

BACK AT THE OFFICE,
I'VE BEEN GRINDING MY TEETH BACK DOWN.
DOCTORS TELL ME
WRINKLES FORM FROM HOW HARD I FROWN.
PAINT A SMILE ON
AND PICK UP THAT GODDAMN PHONE
CALL THE BOSS AND TELL HER,
"NOBODY'S FUCKING HOME"
CALL MY BABY TELL HIM,
"NOBODY'S COMING HOME"
CALL MY MAMA
TELL HER NOWHERE EVER FELT ENOUGH LIKE HOME

AND I'M TRYING TO FIGURE THIS OUT
I'M TRYING, BUT GOD--IT JUST DOESN'T WORK
AND I'M TRYING TO PRETEND YOU'RE NOT LEAVING ME
I'M TRYING TO IGNORE THAT IT HURTS

I COULD MAKE YOU SO
I WANT TO MAKE YOU SO

I DON'T WANT TO THINK 'BOUT
ANY
THING
AT
ALL
TOO
HARD
I JUST WANT TO GO AND
LAY
IN
MY
BABY'S
ARMS

I COULD MAKE YOU SO HAPPY, BABY

• Grunge
• Heavy Pop Sludge
• Nashville
• Nirvana
• Rock
• Weezer
• Nashville