Makin' A Mess

T-bone Billy just a singin' the bluesCaught his lady with another manLit up a smoke and did some talkinWith the back of his handShe started shakin', started losing her mindBut he was kicking back and playing it coolSigned her walkin' papersTook the 5:15 to KalamazooSing for your supper,Nobody rides for freeEat your heart out, I'll send it C.O.D.One, two baby what you doThree, four let me show you the doorYou're better off dead than makin' a mess of meFive, six take your last licksSeven, eight let me give it to you straightYou're better off dead than makin a mess of meNow Billy-boy's out havin' a ball playin' fiddle at the local barDark shades, cool kicks, he's Hollywood Blvd.Slick Daddy and his fat cigar sayin':"Sign upon the dotted line!"He shook his head and said:"All I need is that fiddle of mine!"Sing for your supper,Nobody rides for freeTake your big time, I'll take care of meOne, two baby what you doThree, four let me show you the doorYou're better off dead than makin' a mess of meFive, six take your last licksSeven, eight let me give it to you straightYou're better off dead than makin a mess of meWhen trouble came knockinBilly kep-a-rockin' like this...Sing for your supper,Nobody rides for freeEat your heart out, I'll send it C.O.D.One, two baby what you doThree, four let me show you the doorYou're better off dead than makin' a mess of meFive, six take your last licksSeven, eight let me give it to you straightYou're better off dead than makin a mess of meOne, two baby what you doThree, four let me show you the doorYou're better off dead than makin' a mess of meFive, six take your last licks (lick it)Seven, eight let me give it to you straightYou're better off dead than makin a mess of me.