| The fool screams, 'no more!'
|
| He grabs his shirt and hits the door
|
| What she needs from him he ignores
|
| It’s a bore. |
| Oh it’s a bore. |
| Oh it’s a bore. |
| Oh it’s a bore
|
| (Oh it’s a …)
|
| Blast the radio
|
| The hits just come and go
|
| Block out what he knows that he has blown
|
| (That he has blown…)
|
| The night hangs its head
|
| As the fool crawls into bed
|
| Still his hungry heart begs to be fed
|
| All the words she once said
|
| (That she said. That she said. That she said.)
|
| So then he grabs his Chevrolet
|
| In one more attempt to get away
|
| But the thoughts of all the crimes of passion lay in his way
|
| He can shake the blues
|
| But you know he still can get confused
|
| It seems like such a waste
|
| 'Cause he can’t shake her
|
| He can shake his tail
|
| But you know his moves are getting stale
|
| He’s on the make, but oh, his heart can’t fake
|
| That he can’t shake her
|
| He can’t shake her
|
| No, he can’t shake her
|
| Romance falls like rain
|
| But all the motives are insane
|
| Everytime that he plays the game he feels the pain
|
| (He feels the pain. Who is to blame? Who is to blame?)
|
| He finds a joint that’s jive
|
| Guys are spinning girls like 45's
|
| All of the live bait sink for his lines they are so high
|
| He knows he is beat
|
| As his heart puts on the heat
|
| Run from the street that don’t even fit his feet
|
| (Don't fit his feet. Now he can see. Now he can really see)
|
| Tell him here’s a telephone
|
| He can beg to let the fool come home
|
| He tells her that his life’s a drag alone
|
| (Can't be alone)
|
| He can shake the blues
|
| But you know he still can get confused
|
| It seems like such a waste
|
| 'Cause he can’t shake her
|
| He can shake his tail
|
| But you know his moves are getting stale
|
| He’s on the make, but oh, his heart can’t fake
|
| That he can’t shake her
|
| He can’t shake her
|
| No, he can’t shake her |