You don't like my politics
You're not impressed with my magic tricks
You call "cruel" my rapier wit (and) think my poetry is drivel
Well, I don't care for your style of clothes
Your choice of food turns up my nose
And when it comes to love and hate then I suppose
We're both somewhere in the middle
(but when you say)
"I want you", I say "Ditto"
You say, "I need you", I say "Ditto"
No I'm not kiddin' you kiddo
Right here we got devotion
Let me second your motion... "Ditto"
You don't like my old pick-up truck
Or the things I'll do to make a buck
The fact I seem always down on my luck frightens you a little
Well, I don't always get your attitude
Your condescension can be flat and rude
Where this is leading is like your mood, something like a riddle
(when you say)
We got in common that we don't have much in common
Ah, but these distractions are just a fraction
Of what you and me apparently been wantin'
You always mock my guitar licks
My metaphors, my puns and quips
You don't dig my friends, you call them hicks
It's your penchant to belittle
You act like it's a favor when you hang around
And you never show affection to my old hound
You don't eat your hot cakes till they've cooled down
I like 'em hot off the griddle
(now you say)
Autor(es): Terry Taylor