You up and leave me, cold turkey
When you know I could not tie my own shoe
This does not please me, no not exactly
Guess you do not give a damn for my love

Everybody knows that she's worse than religion
No, you do not cross a woman in love
Every garden grows at the turn of the season
But Paris in the spring doesn't mean a damn thing to my baby

You beat me up, you put me down
You slander my name all over town
Guess I'm big enough to roll with the punches
But you bruised me, you abused me damn good

Everybody knows that she's worse than religion
No, you do not cross a woman in love
Every garden grows at the turn of the season
But Paris in the spring didn't do a damn thing

I love you so, so much
You love me so, so what?

La la la la la...