I look at my telephone book
 I can't stand the way it look
 I hate to think the way you took
 me down into a burnin' rage
 I wrote your name on every page
 but you don't return my calls
 you don't return my calls
 you don't return my calls
 I'm ready to bust down the walls
 I'm going down Niagara Falls
 in a barrel of fun
 hey ain't I a lucky one
 you don't return my calls
 my telephone book is the color red
 my telephone book is the color red
 the red is all in my head
 some things are left better unsaid
 is that why you don't try
 to acknowledge or reply
 you don't return my calls
 why did you hear from an old friend
 I knew once way back when
 I did some bad things to myself and my health
 or did you happen to hear an old song I once sang
 did it make your sweet sweet blood run cold in your veins
 and will you never think of me the same