Ryan Adams
Just Like a Whore
I don't know why, girl
You keep coming around
I don't know when
And I don't know how
But a gust of wind coming
It come knocking on my door
Just to make me feel special
Feel . . . like a whore
Summertime came and
Heated you up
Drinking your honey
From an old paper cup
Dress for your Sundays
And a dog for your fix
My tongue on your teeth but
Your mouth can't fix
Just a gust of wind coming
Come knocking on my door
Just to make me feel special
Feel . .
Feel . .
To feel . . . oh . .
To feel . . . like a whore