Never treats me sweet and gentle,
The way he should.
I got it bad and that ain't good.
My poor heart is so sentimental,
Not made of wood.
I got it bad and that ain't good.
And when the weekend's over,
And Monday rolls around,
I end up like I start out,
Just cryin' my poor heart out.
He don't love me
Like I love him.
Nobody could.
I got it bad and that ain't good.
When the weekend's over,
Monday rolls around,
I end up like I start out,
Just cryin' my poor heart out.
He don't love me
Like I love him.
Nobody could.
I got it bad, and that
. . . ain't good.