Text: Afghan Whigs. What Jail Is Like. Mr. Superlove.

The storm was blowing from the south
The blood was running from your mouth
Glass was shattered on the floor
A hundred pieces maybe more
I remember you were crying
Just befoere you sent it flying
Silent sounding pounding on my floor

You may not believe me, baby, when i tell you that i am mr. superlove
You may not believe me, baby, when i tell you that i am mr. superlove
Falling out (falling out)
Falling out (falling out)
Falling out (falling out)
We had a falling-out

Clothes were lying on the chair

Your face was hidden by your hair
All that i could think of then was
What it must have felt like when you
Were lying naked headlong down the stairs

You may not believe me, baby, when i tell you that i am mr. superlove
You may not believe me, baby, when i tell you that i am mr. superlove
You may not believe me, baby, when i tell you that i am mr. superlove
You may not believe me, baby, when i tell you that i am mr. superlove
Falling out (falling out)
Falling out (falling out)
Falling out (falling out)
We had a falling-out