Makin’ a Mess

Oh yeah
Alright

T-bone Billy just a-singin' the blues
He caught his lady with another man
Lit up a smoke and did some talkin'
With the back of his hand, smack

She started shakin', started losing her mind
But he was kicking back and playing it cool
Signed her walkin' papers
Took the 5:15 to Kalamazoo

Sing for your supper
Nobody rides for free
Eat your heart out
I'll send it C.O.D, yeah

One two, baby, what you do
Three four, let me show you the door
You're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of me
Five six, take your last licks
Seven eight, I'm gonna give it to you straight
You're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of me

Now Billy-boy's out havin' a ball
He's playin' fiddle at the local bar
Dark shades, cool kicks
He's Hollywood Boulevard

Slick Daddy with his fat cigar
He's sayin', "Sign upon the dotted line"
He shook his head and said
"All I need's that fiddle of mine, that's all"

Sing for your supper
Nobody rides for free
Take your big time
I'll take care of m-m-me, m-m-me, yeah

One two, baby, what you do
Three four, let me show you the door
You're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of me
Five six, take your last licks
Seven eight, I'm gonna give it to you straight
You're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of me

Say, trouble keeps knockin'
My Billy keeps rockin' like this, huh

Sing for your supper
Nobody rides for free
Take your big time
I'll take care of m-m-me, m-m-me

One two, baby, what you do
Three four, let me show you the door
You're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of me
Five six, take your last licks
Seven eight, I'm gonna give it to you straight
You're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of m-m-m-m-me

One two, baby, what you do, whoa
You're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of me
Five six, take your last licks
You're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of, mess of, mess of me

You make a mess of me, it'll be the best mess you ever made, baby