You've got Tira-Flecha Nicaragua Mafia blood in you,
And it shows.
It's 1 a.m. on I-95, US1, heading south and we're not together but
You kiss my mouth when I leave.

And I couldn't tell you why but,
A small part of me cringes
Everytime I meet your eyes.
So it goes.
Your parents think I'm a witch with my hair all a-fly
And I'll bet that's why you look at me that way.

Back in the day, you took up smoking all over again.
You dated my best friend behind my back and didn't tell me for years,
Because you were a man, so it's allowed.
What with those buck teeth,
Cigarettes look ugly as Hell on you.