Watsky - Sloppy Seconds

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 don't care where you've been

How many miles, I still love you

I don't care where you've been

How many miles, I still love you



Show me someone who says they got no baggage

I'll show you somebody whose got no story

Nothing gory means no glory

But, baby, please don't bore me