I've grown accustomed to you
I've grown accustomed to you
The way you speak
It's a crime that I complain
Sometimes I get to thinking of
Times I've past and some useless crap
It's a crime that I complain
Baby, I was beat or perhaps I just got bored
Baby, conversation can carry more
And now and then I get drunk to hell
I wake up sick, and I hate myself
It's a crime that I complain
I don't mind the quiet
Talking is such a drag
Forget it, forget it
Forget it, forget it