I'm not one to fixate on passing news,
yet my gold reflection's in the evening brew.
Loretta, it's here that I met you.
Our one connection, our lousy fools.Their monograms on the handkerchiefs
where we go side sweeping tears again.
Our girlfriends send their condolences,
but where are the goons that got us into this?And it's not that we can't handle it,
we're just tired of settling, you and me.Me and Loretta, Loretta Lynn,
Black coffee and cinnamon.
The price of gin beats remembering.
How did we not see this coming from him?
The first time I heard it, I must have been five,
that crooked motives mean lots of lies.
But the warning didn't mean much 'til later in life
When we were led to the land of ten-cent wine.They told us we were their heiresses--
a trick to conjure submissiveness.
so we'd be lame, but great in appearances.
Lame, not great, they're no different.And it's not that we can't handle it,
we're just tired of settling, you and me.Me and Loretta, Loretta Lynn,
Black coffee and cinnamon.
The price of gin beats remembering.
How did we not see this coming from him?The back of Tootsie's, off of music row
with our heads hanging like limp dolls.
In the bars, among evening clothes.
Where yesterday's hunger meets today's ghosts.
Among the sinners and the cigarettes--
the kind of crowd you'd expect him in.
But we're not angry at all the men, no,
just the ones we got tangled with.'Cause it's not that we can't handle it,
we're just tired of settling, you and me.Me and Loretta, Loretta Lynn.
Black coffee and cinnamon.
The price of gin beats remembering.
How did we not see this coming from him?How did we not see this coming?
How did we not see this coming?
How did we not see this coming?
