I look at my telephone book I can't stand the way it look I hate to think the way you took me down into a burnin' rage I wrote your name on every page but you don't return my calls you don't return my calls you don't return my calls I'm ready to bust down the walls I'm going down Niagara Falls in a barrel of fun hey ain't I a lucky one you don't return my calls my telephone book is the color red my telephone book is the color red the red is all in my head some things are left better unsaid is that why you don't try to acknowledge or reply you don't return my calls why did you hear from an old friend I knew once way back when I did some bad things to myself and my health or did you happen to hear an old song I once sang did it make your sweet sweet blood run cold in your veins and will you never think of me the same
