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The Odds of Loving you
par
John Hiatt
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Lying, I caught you doing it Crying, you had to ruin it I was up on my high horse Taking notes and naming names You were sniffling and a snuffling Fogging up your window pane I rode in on my high horse Ran out like a dog in shame You got ways to dealing with me I, I don't like feeling But you keep me on the front stove And right before I blow my top Well you school me and you cool me Baby, don't you ever stop Seven nights of heaven Eleven days of who shot who Seven come eleven I like the odds of loving you I, I like the gravy But you, you want to save me From myself and I keep thinking Of all the nights I spend alone Well I'm stubborn and I'm stupid Baby, would you please come home
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