Tell her this I don’t like to kiss   Ill know it was something ill miss   And tell her that ill never be late   Along as she will be there to   Wait for me…      Tell her this my tongues in a twist   I ran through a confident fist   And tell her that the gypsy was real   The sender is what makes the toe cramps and stomach aches   Hard to heal      And it don’t mean a thing   If you cant try to be   If you’re always expecting   From me      Tell her this ill never be rich   And Christmas was always a bitch   Tell her that I still feel the same   But between me and you we see things better and…      And it don’t mean a thing   If you cant try to be   But you’re always expecting   From me      Still in my underwear   Watching some reruns of anything      (I can’t forget)      Still with regrets      Tell her this I don’t like to kiss   Ill know it was something ill miss      And it don’t mean a thing   If you cant try to be   But you’re always expecting   From me      No it don’t mean a thing   If you cant try to be   What you’re always expecting   From me