This song was originally written by a guy called Peter Gutteridge. He was one of the founders of the "Dunedin Sound" a musical scene in the south of New Zealand in the early 80s. From there it was covered by "The Clean" one of the early bands of that scene (he had originally been a member of in it's early days, writing a couple of their best early songs). The Dunedin sound, and the Clean became popular on american college radio in the mid to late 80s. I guess Yo La Tengo heard that version.
Great version of a great song,
Would it bother you to know his hands have been all over me..
And would it bother you to know I'll run to him next time you leave, oh yeah.
When you hit the road and disappear, and leave me here.
I'm not sure what you're doing out there, or who you're doing it with.
Oh You're probably at some sweet hotel with some groupie whore,
But what the hell, or maybe that's just something I tell myself.
When I run my nails down his back, and he kisses me on my neck,
He feels me, but it kills me.
Such a bittersweet, passion pain,
I bite my lip not to scream your name, oh baby.
I feel everything, but guilty.
Would it bother you to know he drinks your southern comfort
when you're gone. Oh Yeah.
Would it bother you to know he picks up your guitar and
plays your songs, oh yes he does.
And I wear your band t-shirt to bed, imagine I'm with you instead,
but you're not here.
No you're never here.
Oh you're probably at the back of your bus, satisfying you all night long,
but maybe that's just something I tell myself.
When I run my nails down his back, and he kisses me on my neck,
He feels me, but it kills me.
It's a bittersweet, passionate pain,
I bite my lip not to scream your name, oh baby.
I feel everything, but guilty.
Would it bother you to know he says, he's in love with me.
When I run my nails down his back, and he kisses me on my neck,
He feels me, but it kills me.
It's a bittersweet, passion pain,
I bite my lip not to scream your name, oh baby.
I feel everything, but guilty. Oh oh
Would it bother you...Yeah
And would it bother you to know I'll run to him next time you leave, oh yeah.
When you hit the road and disappear, and leave me here.
I'm not sure what you're doing out there, or who you're doing it with.
Oh You're probably at some sweet hotel with some groupie whore,
But what the hell, or maybe that's just something I tell myself.
When I run my nails down his back, and he kisses me on my neck,
He feels me, but it kills me.
Such a bittersweet, passion pain,
I bite my lip not to scream your name, oh baby.
I feel everything, but guilty.
Would it bother you to know he drinks your southern comfort
when you're gone. Oh Yeah.
Would it bother you to know he picks up your guitar and
plays your songs, oh yes he does.
And I wear your band t-shirt to bed, imagine I'm with you instead,
but you're not here.
No you're never here.
Oh you're probably at the back of your bus, satisfying you all night long,
but maybe that's just something I tell myself.
When I run my nails down his back, and he kisses me on my neck,
He feels me, but it kills me.
It's a bittersweet, passionate pain,
I bite my lip not to scream your name, oh baby.
I feel everything, but guilty.
Would it bother you to know he says, he's in love with me.
When I run my nails down his back, and he kisses me on my neck,
He feels me, but it kills me.
It's a bittersweet, passion pain,
I bite my lip not to scream your name, oh baby.
I feel everything, but guilty. Oh oh
Would it bother you...Yeah
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