Grease Weasel - Tequila, the Apple of My Lime

Rolled out of bed
Looked out my window and said
Today would be the same as the last
Opened up my bank app to find out that I had a really small amount of cash
But I got some quarters in the car
The ABC isn't far
And I come home just to realize that
I forgot the fucking limes
This happens almost every time
Grabbed my keys and got back on the road, and

I went to the store
Your dress dropped down to the floor
I bought, the limes
I bought, some wine

I stood in your line
I waited
For you to love me but, you hated

The way, I looked at the floor
When you spoke, I was sure
But you showed me the door
Now I'm back home drinking alone

I ask of you, for peace of mind
Please don't forget the fucking limes
Please don't forget
Oh please don't forget
Please don't forget the limes

Written by:
Samuel Yousufzai

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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