Ain’t No Fun


A model quintessence that opposites attract:
Goodier than Goody Two-Shoes, but you cheat behind my back.
My tired lips don’t smile, my laugh lines ironed out,
‘cos it’s no fun no more, when you’re foolin’ around.

I must be mad, why do I even try?
Promise myself no more Mr. Nice guy. ‘cos it

ain’t no fun. Ain’t no fun. No more.

You’re cryin’ when you’re punchin’ n’ kickin’ me down,
I’m your sittin’ target, you’re givin’ me the runaround.
Pro-fess-i-on-al victim, never put a foot down wrong.
Worn my patience paper-thin, persecuted me too long.

PRE-CHORUS

CHORUS

I can’t go on, it makes no sense: I’m at my tether’s end.
A change of tack, on the attack: no pride left to defend.

PRE-CHORUS

CHORUS

©31.10.2018 Andrew Robert Chapman

A change of tack, go on the attack: I’ve no pride left to defend.
You’re always playin’ the victim, like I’ve done ev’rythin’ wrong
suffrin’ you a lifelong
x x filled to the brim
but you read the riot act.
, x x x feather penn’d


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