You know John, he really broke me up.
He said, “Come on, girl, fill my cup,”
and I did, with heady wine and gin.
We drank so deeply of that beverage of sin.

Later on, walking home in the rain,
we sang and sang that same sweet refrain, but you know
you can’t sing (sing, sing sing)
that song too long
with a man who’s got wings.

I don’t know why
I love them like I do.
I don’t know why
I’m a slave to the muse.

Quiet James, he stuck around.
You know that boy had his feet on the ground, well
he said for me he would fly—
he’s just another one of those jealous guys.

And I told Drew, when he left
that boy, he was committing a first-rate theft.
Taking my time, leaving me crying,
and moving on down, moving down that line.

I don’t know why
I love them like I do.
I don’t know why
I’m a slave to the muse.

You’ve got me writing,
every little thing that you do is exciting.
You’ve got me singing,
drowning in the sound that your love has been bringing.

I don’t know why
I love them like I do.
I don’t know why
I’m a slave to the muse.

Copyright (c) Lizzy Ross 2009