What'd I bother you, to know his hands have been all over you?And what'd I bother you, to know I'll run to him next time you leave?You hit the road and disappear and leave me hereI'm not sure what you're doin' out thereOr who you're doin' it withWell, probably at some sweet hotel with some groovy ***But what the hell, maybe there's a song that I tell myselfWhen I write my notes down, he's back and he kisses me on my neckHe fills me, but he kills meSuch a bittersweet passion painI want my mind not to scream your name outBaby, I feel everything, but guiltyAnd what'd I bother you, to know he drinks your seven comfort when you're gone?And what'd I bother you, to know he picks up your guitar and plays your songs?Oh, yes, he doesAnd I wear your fancy shirt to bed, imagine I'm with you insteadBut you're not here, no, you're never hereOr you're probably at the back of your bus, satisfying your one-night lustOr maybe there's a song that I tell myselfWhen I write my notes down, he's back and he kisses me on my neckHe fills me, but he kills meIt's a bittersweet passion painI want my mind not to scream your name outBaby, I feel everything, but guiltyWhat'd I bother you, to know he says he's in love with me?When I write my notes down, he's back and he kisses me on my neckHe fills me, but he kills meIt's a bittersweet passion painI want my mind not to scream your name outBaby, I feel everything, but guiltyWhat'd I bother youWhat'd I bother you