Sloppy Seconds Watsky

Fu*k you if you love a car for its paint job

Love you if you love a car for the road trips

Show me the miles and your arms and the pink scar

Where the doctor had to pull out all the bone chips

Cause you were pressing on the gas just a bit hard

Right in the moment where the road curved a bit sharp

And when you woke up

Somebody was unclipping your seatbelt

And pulling you from the open window of your flipped car



Cold pizza, tie-dye shirts

Broken hearts, give em here, give em here

Hand-me-downs, give me, give me leftovers

Give me, give me sloppy seconds

Give em here, give em here

I dont care where youve been

How many miles, I still love you

I dont care where youve been

How many miles, I still love you



Show me someone who says they got no baggage

Ill show you somebody whose got no story

Nothing gory means no glory

But, baby, please dont bore me