He's got her best friend on the phone.
She'll wash her hair, his dirty clothes,
And all he gives to her.
And he's got posters on the wall,
Of all the girls he wishes she was,
And he means everything to her.
He don't know,
I wish that I could make her see,
She's just the flavor of the week.
It's Friday night and she's all alone,
He's a million miles away,
She's dressed to kill,
The TV's on,
He's connected to the sound,
And he's got pictures on the wall,
Of all the girls he's loved before.
And she knows all his favorite songs.
She makes me weak
Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings
"Flavor of the Week" as written by Stacy Jones
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
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