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,
Blow your smoke, down my throat
And I'll inhale it again
Don't know where you're going with this but I say oh
Call your phone, no one's home
You never pick up, but I never text cause I don't want to
We never hang out anymore mostly pass out on the floor
after downing bottles of rum and malibu
And your taste is bad, I make you sick
You make me mad, act like you don't give a shit
And I find it real sad, make me out to be a bitch
But, I just miss you
And your taste is bad, I make you sick
You make me mad, act like you don't give a shit
And I find it real sad, make me out to be a bitch
But, I just miss you
I walk down the street and see foreclosure signs
It just reminds me how you never gave me closure or time
To heal, what's the deal with this edgy ass shit
We're getting nowhere
What did I see, in you, and every memory
That'd I see of you, tells me everything
I needed to know about you, I clutch my sheets when I fall asleep without you, (sleep without you)
And your taste is bad, I make you sick
You make me mad, act like you don't give a shit
And I find it real sad, make me out to be a bitch
But, I just miss you
And your taste is bad, I make you sick
You make me mad, act like you don't give a shit
And I find it real sad, make me out to be a bitch
But, I just miss you
And I'll inhale it again
Don't know where you're going with this but I say oh
Call your phone, no one's home
You never pick up, but I never text cause I don't want to
We never hang out anymore mostly pass out on the floor
after downing bottles of rum and malibu
And your taste is bad, I make you sick
You make me mad, act like you don't give a shit
And I find it real sad, make me out to be a bitch
But, I just miss you
And your taste is bad, I make you sick
You make me mad, act like you don't give a shit
And I find it real sad, make me out to be a bitch
But, I just miss you
I walk down the street and see foreclosure signs
It just reminds me how you never gave me closure or time
To heal, what's the deal with this edgy ass shit
We're getting nowhere
What did I see, in you, and every memory
That'd I see of you, tells me everything
I needed to know about you, I clutch my sheets when I fall asleep without you, (sleep without you)
And your taste is bad, I make you sick
You make me mad, act like you don't give a shit
And I find it real sad, make me out to be a bitch
But, I just miss you
And your taste is bad, I make you sick
You make me mad, act like you don't give a shit
And I find it real sad, make me out to be a bitch
But, I just miss you
Lyrics submitted by Syn40Degree
I just Miss You Lyrics as written by Chance Beaver
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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