My hair is high, coke is cheap It's a great time to be ali— Studies are now saying that cigarettes are recommended and women belong in the kitchen
We go to church on a Sunday, wake up on Monday You'd go to work and I'd stay at home and sing and do fun things I might get a little slap-slap but you wouldn't hit me on Snapchat Don't fuckin' text me at 2AM sayin': Where you at, at? Boy, fuck you You didn't write me letters when you went away You'd make me feel better, you'd know what to say And maybe you'd still be a hoe But if you cheated, hell, I wouldn't know
I want you to love me (Hair up high, hair up high, hair up high) Like it's 1965 (Hair up high, hair up high, hair up high) Oh-oh I want you to want me (Hair up high, hair up high, hair up high) I think I'd give up a few rights (Hair up high, hair up high, hair up high) If you would just love me Like it's 1965
You'd show up at the door with flowers and ask me What I am doing an hour half past three We'd go to diners, and movies and such We'd just hold hands and I'd love every touch and I would be twenty and it'd be acceptable for you to be forty And that is fucked up, I know But at least you wouldn't drive off before I get in the fuckin' door You fuckin' fuck, fuck you
I want you to love me (Hair up high, hair up high, hair up high) Like it's 1965 (Hair up high, hair up high, hair up high) Oh-oh I want you to want me (Hair up high, hair up high, hair up high) I think I'd give up a few rights (Hair up high, hair up high, hair up high) If you would just love me Like it's 1965
I guess Bud Light didn't exist Fuck it, I guess movies didn't exist either Maybe they did, I'm not sure about that timeline, but I'm sure about that you are mine and I am yours And God, if I had nine daughters And Dirty Dancing wasn't a thing yet I love that movie, fuck But oh, you'd read a lot of books, ah-la
Compositor: Jessie Murph / VYNK / Steve Rusch / Laura Veltz