Julia, take your man home He's just sitting at the bar Carving shapes that look like dicks into the wood Julia, take your man home He keeps running in and out of the street With a weed between his teeth he calls a rose Julia, take your man home He keeps talking about New Jersey and cocaine And some person he keeps saying is made of glass
Julia, take your man home Lay him down on a bed of thorns And I've got a feeling He'll say sorry Come tomorrow morning And when he wakes in a bed of thorns I've got a feeling He'll say sorry Just wait for tomorrow morning
When I asked him if he needed to go home He said, "The beating heart of a lonely man is nothing but an unheard decrescendo" Julia, take your man home He keeps filling up the room with smoke And then claiming that it's just his ghost
Said, Julia, take your man home Lay him down on a bed of thorns And I've got a feeling He'll say sorry Come tomorrow morning And when he wakes in a bed of thorns I've got a feeling He'll say sorry Just wait for tomorrow morning And you can tell him for yourself that you ain't gonna pluck No rose petals out of his teeth for him
To say that he loves you would be unfair towards you, and To say that he needs you would be unfair towards you, too To say that he loves you would be unfair towards you, and To say that he needs you would be unfair towards you, too
Compositores: Daniel William Howard Boeckner, Spencer Krug, Arlen Robert Thompson ECAD: Obra #26003416