The Weight of Her- Butch Walker

Here comes the captain,
she’s a fire-cracker, skinny jeans.
Two lips of honey,
yeah, she leaves a trail of gasoline.
She’ll drink more whiskey
than her daddy, she can even sing,
and all the clappers say,
“you're living in her world.”

The word around the streets:
she likes the smell of cocaine.
It makes her crazy
when she mix it up with champagne.

You'll never make it if you
don’t keep her locked in a cage.
You will be wishing
now for any other girl.

Don’t let the weight of her world bring you down.
Don’t let her walk into the room and turn you inside out.
Don’t let the touch of her hand take you down.
No, not now. No, not ever again.

Six forty five: As you wake up,
she's just gone to bed.
Clear out the phone from a hundred texts
you haven’t read.
She only wants you when it’s later
and she’s off her head.
Pay close attention,
you’re just living in her world.

And all the Swedish girls,
they hang out at the hotel.
It's sex for green cards;
I think they know you very well.

It paints a picture of a movie ending,
dark as hell.
You will be wishing
now for any other girl.

Don’t let the weight of her world bring you down.
Don’t let her walk into a room and turn you inside out.
Don’t let the touch of her hand take you down.
No, not now. No, not ever again.