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