the clock has ticked eleven and the place is clear
reality is kicking in and so is my beer
I don't make excuses when it's all my fault
if a heart is made of money he's cleaned out my vault

i feel a little wounded and it isn't fair
to sit inside a parlour and see him standing over there
as smug as a robber that a cop can't catch
the lipstick on his collar doesn't seem to match
mine

doesn't seem to match mine

now Joe behind the bar is offering advice
Cause I'm a broken record and he has to tell me twice
why don't I understand that he just can't change
I wanna be his woman not his weekend dame

Now Joe his eyes are rollin' says it's just too bad
And he'll be back tomorrow on my heart-beat crash
I'd like to say goodbye, but hello is the match
though the lipstick on his collar never seems to match
mine

doesn't seem to match mine

this line is disconnecte