| Hey, Mr. Mr.
|
| What bothers me is you, you
|
| Hanging around this world alone, and I feel the blues, blues
|
| When I’m talking about it
|
| Nowhere just thinking about it
|
| Hell, I’m fine here
|
| Drinking my wine, my life
|
| And what could be worse is long gone by
|
| When I know in my heart in my head I can do without
|
| In my lungs — in my hands
|
| The heavy eyes of a jealous man
|
| This is everything I’ve known
|
| What do I really have to offer?
|
| Nothing, nothing
|
| Hey, Mr. Mr.
|
| It bothers me that you, you
|
| Hanging around this world, spinning around
|
| And I feel the blues
|
| When I’m thinking about it
|
| Nowhere just talking about it
|
| Hell, I’m fine here
|
| Drinking my wine, my life
|
| And what could be worse is long gone by
|
| When I know in my heart in my head I can do without
|
| In my lungs — in my hands
|
| The heavy eyes of a jealous man
|
| This is everything I’ve known
|
| What do I really have to offer?
|
| What do I — what do I?
|
| Nothing
|
| (It spins around, it spins around, it spins around — this world)
|
| Hey, Mr. Mr.
|
| It bothers me
|
| And around this world, there’s a lonely girl
|
| Who never knows
|
| Motherfucker, it’s my attitude that bothers you
|
| When I know in my heart in my head I can do without
|
| In my lungs — in my hands
|
| The heavy eyes of a jealous man
|
| This is everything I’ve known
|
| What do I really have to offer?
|
| Nothing at all, nothing at all |