lyrics
You rip my guts with every sharp word,
When you use that monster
Hiding underneath your tongue,
My words donít, they donít work on you,
No, they donít work like they used to.
ëCause itís been seven weeks, seven weeks,
Oh, oh, oh, seven weeks, since I called you,
When I try now; I just canít get through.
So far, the drinks have been so strong,
No writing on the post cards,
No memories to hang on.
Sleeping in my six oí clock shadow,
People judging people so shallow,
I call you up to see what youíre doing,
To see if you wonít...
Send me your love, right through the ceiling,
I need your love, darliní this evening!
Oh, moma, moma, moma, what can I do?
Thereís a jukebox baby,
And you can play our favorite song all night,
Until your moneyís gone,
ëCause if Iím right about you darliní,
Then youíre probably laying in bed,
And your temperature is boiling,
ëCause your making things up in your head.
Itís been seven weeks, seven weeks,
Oh, oh, oh seven weeks, since I called you,
When I try now; just canít get through,
So far, the days have been so long,
But, now I got my fade on,
Screaming at you at the top of my lungs!
Fog is lifting from the old man,
I had so much fun in the trash can,
I wave my flag, but you still send your troops in,
To the war in your soul.
Send me your love, right through the ceiling
I need your love, darliní this evening!
Oh, moma, moma, moma, what can I do?
Backstage pass through these time zones,
Want you everyday, but Iím not home,
Canít really touch you through the cell phone,
Thereís so many things that you just donít know..
Itís been seven weeks, seven weeks,
Oh, oh, oh, seven weeks, since I called you,
When I try now; just canít get through.
So far, the drinks have been so strong,
Now thereís writing on the post cards,
Baby, seven weeks is just too long!
credits
license
all rights reserved