Watsky - Sloppy Seconds

Fu*k you if you love a car for its paint job
Love you if you love a car for the road trips
Show me the miles and your arms and the pink scar
Where the doctor had to pull out all the bone chips
'Cause you were pressing on the gas just a bit hard
Right in the moment where the road curved a bit sharp
And when you woke up
Somebody was unclipping your seatbelt
And pulling you from the open window of your flipped car
Cold pizza, tie-dye shirts
Broken hearts, give 'em here, give 'em here
Hand-me-downs, give me, give me leftovers
Give me, give me sloppy seconds
Give 'em here, give 'em here
I don't care where you've been
How many miles, I still love you
I don't care where you've been
How many miles, I still love you
Show me someone who says they got no baggage
I'll show you somebody whose got no story
Nothing gory means no glory
But, baby, please don't bore me