Oh, you think you'll make it on your own But every time you cry your heart out You just play a part 'bout what might have been Oh, don't give me bad news on the phone Cause every time I hear that shit ring I listen to your voice sing And I'm turning green She questions everything you see Every time I climb a sugar hill Sitting on the window sill I'm watching a bee Don't give me bad news on the phone My heart is rolling like a stone I can feel the hot steam Coming out of your nostrils And chilling my bones Cry, my oh my oh my oh my Look at all the dirty pictures Acid queens and hipsters passing by Don't give me bad news on the phone My heart is rolling like a stone I can feel the hot steam Coming out of your nostrils And chilling my bones