I can barely feel the sheets
with all these crumbs down in my bed
Oh no, how can I get to sleep
with all this buzzing in my head?
And who'd have ever thought
I'd not complain about a mess?
I guess, this is what I get
We're eatin' crackers with my gin
and drinkin' in my Sunday dress
The telephone is by the bottle
which is al ways by my bed
Time to time I give it a rattle
to make sure that it's not dead
I will wait here for your call
till I run out of cigarettes
I love to play the part of
Flickin' ashes in my coffee,
drinkin' in my Sunday dress
Well, I've been on the road to this
And I've been on the way to this
Got who to thank and come to this
Don't let on you've seen me like this
My oil transistor soundin' just
My radiator growls like Elvis
I've drained my last tequila
and I've thrown away the blender
I've poured out all the wine
and I want nothin' but the best
while drinkin' in my Sunday dress
Well I've been on the road to this
and I've been on the way to this
I surely ain't a hy pocrite,
Our reverend is a kingless soul,
His Bible is not inked in gold,
he's not the cheatin' kind
One Sunday after meetin',
I was in the green line I
I've seen you from the altar,
Just remember who's beside you
when it's no business of mine
I said, remember who's beside you
when it's no business of mine
