When I heard that you were leaving me for my best friend I flipped my lid and coated him with peanutbutter; I was going for the jelly when he hit me on the head and when I woke up all the lights were on but you were gone and I was all alone.<,p>
Now my heart is shattered like the glasses on your face when I punched you in the nose, you started crying, you were bleeding all over my guitar so I told you to get the hell out but you passed out and I had to call 911 and they arrested me.
When they let me out I stumbled home and proceeded to forget your name but you came back for your laundry and you had my best friend with you and he said that if I touched he would kill me, but I couldn't move, I just sat there and tried to write a song.
Chorus:
Did you think you were important to me? hey, I got news for you.
Between you and this old six string, I know which one I'd choose.
I'd pack my bags and pick up my guitar and head for the next town.
It's cheaper to find another woman, there's plenty more around ...
When I got home and heard the silence of the apartment without you, I drank a shot of Drano and wound up in the hospital where all they feed me is oat meal and warm milk before I go to bed at eight o'clock every bloody night.
And they tell me that I'm getting better, whatever that means, and pretty soon they'll have me back on solid food, and then I'll get the bill, and I hear you're on honeymoon, playing tourist in Berlin; would you please bring me back a piece of the wall ...
Chorus:
Well did you think you were important to me? well I've got news for you.
Between you and this old six string, I know which one I'd choose.
I'd pack my bags and pick up my guitar, and head for the next town.
It's cheaper to find another woman, there's plenty more around ...
I am standing in my new apartment with my life in boxes all around me. The faucets leak and the doors all creak, but at least they creak in harmony. And the dripping of the water is a counterpoint to the depression that never ceases hammering at my mind.
I put tin foil on the windows so your memories can't get in, and my counsellor says we're making progress and pretty soon she'll have me sleeping in a bed again instead of in the closet with the doors locked. And then I'll get the bill.
November, 1991/pr>
This song was not, in fact, written about anyone in particular. I'd been listening to a lot of "The Smiths," and "They Might be Giants," and other such bands at the time, and one evening, I just got up and wrote it down. I wanted to write about how crazy men get when women make relationship decisions, and it just sort of got away with me. This song has upset many, because of its allusions to violence; to them, I say, get over yourself; it's just a silly song.
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