He Better Be Dead
I've texted him twenty-one times
And still my phone don't ring
And my wild imagination, son, is makin' up scary things
Makin' up scary things
No one shares a kiss like that
And then just doesn't call
Last night he promised me the world
And now I'm gettin' nothing at all
He better be dead
His house burnt down to the ground
He better have two wheels hangin' off a crumblin' cliff
Way I'm feelin' now
I swear his head better be pressed up against a gun
After all the things we said
If he still ain't called by now
He better be dead
I don't like being done like this, that just ain't my style
Little boys playin' games
You know they really get me riled
You know they really get me riled
If I weren't getting madder by the minute
Then I'd be worried sick
I know he knows I'm callin'
So what the hell is it?
He better be dead
His house burnt down to the ground
He better have two wheels hangin' off a crumblin' cliff
Way I'm feelin' now
I swear his head better be pressed up against a gun
After all the things we said
If he still ain't called by now
He better be
Dead as a doornail, cold as a stone
Flat on the train track, whoa
Traced on the floor, stiff as a board
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
He better be dead
His house burnt down to the ground
He better have two wheels hangin' off a crumblin' cliff
Way I'm feelin' now
I swear his head better be pressed up against a gun
After all the things we said
If he still ain't called by now
He better be tied to a motel bed
And cuffed, gagged and bound
He better be dead
That boy better be dead
I've texted him twenty-two times
And still my phone don't ring
And still my phone don't ring
And my wild imagination, son, is makin' up scary things
Makin' up scary things
No one shares a kiss like that
And then just doesn't call
Last night he promised me the world
And now I'm gettin' nothing at all
He better be dead
His house burnt down to the ground
He better have two wheels hangin' off a crumblin' cliff
Way I'm feelin' now
I swear his head better be pressed up against a gun
After all the things we said
If he still ain't called by now
He better be dead
I don't like being done like this, that just ain't my style
Little boys playin' games
You know they really get me riled
You know they really get me riled
If I weren't getting madder by the minute
Then I'd be worried sick
I know he knows I'm callin'
So what the hell is it?
He better be dead
His house burnt down to the ground
He better have two wheels hangin' off a crumblin' cliff
Way I'm feelin' now
I swear his head better be pressed up against a gun
After all the things we said
If he still ain't called by now
He better be
Dead as a doornail, cold as a stone
Flat on the train track, whoa
Traced on the floor, stiff as a board
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
He better be dead
His house burnt down to the ground
He better have two wheels hangin' off a crumblin' cliff
Way I'm feelin' now
I swear his head better be pressed up against a gun
After all the things we said
If he still ain't called by now
He better be tied to a motel bed
And cuffed, gagged and bound
He better be dead
That boy better be dead
I've texted him twenty-two times
And still my phone don't ring
Credits
Writer(s): Caroline Cutbirth, Tayla Lynn, Jennifer Wayne, Leslie Winn
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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