Lyrics Bad Baby Pie - Torres

I heard you reserved a silver table
To outrun the Florida June
I heard you reserved a silver table
Where you planned to cut me loose

Was it the cutlery
Or your first look at me
That sent you hurdling home
Without your clothes on?

Though you had every right to choose it
I′m so glad you didn't do it
I′ll make it worth every sleepless night
I'll make it worth every last bite
Of that bad baby pie
Of that bad baby pie

You ordered me a salted water
Fed your heels into the grooves
I was still undercooked and you
Could hardly feed yourself

Was it the cutlery
Or your first look at me
That sent you hurdling home
Without your clothes on?

Though you had every right to choose it
I'm so glad you didn′t do it
I′ll make it worth every sleepless night
I'll make it worth every last bite
Of that bad baby pie
Of that bad baby pie

You must have been leaning
I must have been beaming
You must have been leaning
I must have been beaming

Was it the cutlery
Or your first look at me
That sent you hurdling home
Without your clothes on?

Though you had every right to choose it
I′m so glad you didn't do it
I′ll make it worth every sleepless night
I'll make it worth every last bite
Of that bad baby pie
Of that bad baby pie
Of that bad baby pie
Of that bad baby pie