I know that it?s something I?ll miss
Tell her that I?ll never be late
As long as she?ll be there to wait for me
Tell her this: my tongue?s in a twist
I ran through a confident fist
Tell her that the Gypsy was real
December is what makes the toe cramps and stomachaches hard to heal

And it don?t mean a thing
If you can?t try to be
What you?re always expecting from me

Tell her this: I?ll never be rich
And Christmas was always a bitch
Tell her that I still feel the same
But in between me and you, we see things better

And it don?t mean a thing
If you can?t try to be
What you?re always expecting from me

Still in my underwear watching some reruns of anything
I can?t forget
New York is still on my mind but I?m trapped here in Tennessee
Still with regrets

Tell her this: I don?t like to kiss
I know that it?s something I?ll miss

And it don?t mean a thing
If you can?t try to be
What you?re always expecting from me
No it don?t mean a thing
If you can?t try to be
What you?re always expecting from me