Boomerang

He likes to play an electric guitar He does sing, but not in a choir He thinks he's cool with his 19" tires Got the looks but he's playing with fire Always comes back like a boomerang back to me The words of a liar do hurt like breaking a knee Sober feels out of control Evenings are high, morning are lowW He can't accept that he's getting thirty He's oh so slow, never in a hurry He serves desire with hurt as a potion to me Whenever he's gone he reinvents the word free