Texty: Ryan Adams. III/IV. Numbers.

Here comes your song, it's on the radio
Here comes your song, here comes your song
Everybody in the backseat, come and sing along

We're fucked, we're fucked
There's been an accident, somebody stole your face
We're fucked, we're fucked
You were always something else, there's nothing to replace

You got some shit to throw out
You got some numbers to erase

Numbers, numbers, numbers, numbers
Ringing all night, it's slower than the bar
Numbers, numbers, numbers, numbers
How do you spell
Look way around or replace those numbers?

Here comes your song, it's on the stereo
So turn it on, so turn it up
Everybody in the backseat's about to throw up

We're fucked, we're fucked
There's been a tragedy, hardly words remind us, baby
We're fucked, we're fucked
Fuck, you walked in a piece, this isn't war and peace

You were always good enough
There was nothing to replace
You got some shit to throw out
You got some numbers to erase

You got names to forget
Plus some people to call
There was nothing to replace
You've been good enough all along

You just got settled in
And you wanna get down

And feel like you are loved
Feel like you are loved

Nobody's mad at you
These people love you
And they wanna see you are bein' strong
Wanna see you are bein' strong

So lose no numbers, numbers, numbers
Numbers, numbers, numbers, numbers
Numbers, numbers, numbers, numbers
Numbers, numbers, numbers

So lose no numbers, numbers, numbers
Numbers, numbers, numbers, numbers
Numbers, numbers, numbers, numbers
Numbers

So lose the numbers, numbers, numbers
Numbers, numbers, numbers, numbers
Numbers, numbers, numbers, numbers
Numbers

So lose the numbers, numbers, numbers
Numbers, numbers, numbers, numbers
Numbers, numbers, numbers, numbers
Numbers, numbers, numbers, numbers
The names and the phone

Here comes your song, it's on the stereo
Here comes your song, it's on the radio
Here comes your song, here comes your song

We're fucked, we're fucked
And hung up alone