Living with Strangers - Gold
You lay your crap on me,
You got it rough you got it tough enough for three.
I knew you once before, you whore,
You called yourself a callgirl... not to me.
I got the scars if you want to know
And I suspect you'd cry if you'd seen the show.
But I'm still unsure if you'd stay to see
So I don't want you to talk to me...

I don't know why you got to prove to everybody is so cool.
I think that anyone that knows you has to see
That you're a goddamned fool.
I licked out wastebaskets with my tongue,
And my life has made me feel anything but young.
But I heard what you do, and I know your fee
And I don't want you to talk to me...

I can't afford to call you no more.
I gotta bring my things to your door.
You're staying cool, you say come on down.
You must take me for some kind of clown.
I got no money to go downtown.
Screw your mother, I'm coming down.
You better deliver, I'm coming down.

Public opinion dictates I've got to be tolerant of you.
Moral fatigue has cost me, now I've got to give you your due.
You crave excitement and that makes sense,
But I've seen the books you read, and I think I'd guess,
If you lived like those people you'd become unglued,
And that's why I don't want to talk to you...

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