Telephone Book

I look at my telephone book

I look at my telephone book

I can't stand the way it look

I hate to think the way you tookMe down into a burnin' rage

I wrote your name on every page

You don't return my callsYou don't return my calls

You don't return my calls

I'm ready to bust down the walls

I'm going down Niagara FallsIn a barrel of fun

Hey, ain't I a lucky one

You don't return my callsMy telephone book is the color red

My telephone book is the color red

The red is all in my head

Some things are left better unsaidIs that why you don't try

To acknowledge or reply

Why you don't return my callsI look at my telephone book

I look at my telephone book

I can't stand the way it look

I hate to think the way you tookMe down into a burnin' rage

I wrote your name on every page

You don't return my callsDid you hear from an old friend

I knew once way back when

I did some bad things to myself

And my healthOr did you happen to hear an old song I once sang

Did it make your sweet sweet blood run cold in your veins

Will you never think of me the same