A Nifty Little Number Like You

Humble Pie

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    You smell like a field
    Cow-shit in the midsummer sun
    I must have been mad
    But I gave you all the bread that I had
    (Ooh, that's bad)

    Your mother's a freak
    You know, she made me weak in my knees
    Yes, you're under her thumb
    Why don't you pack your bags and run
    (And run)

    You thought I was hooked
    Showing me off to your friends
    Wearing me like a badge
    Was the only kick you ever had
    (Hey, that's bad)
    I tried to re-arrange your head
    And show you where you were
    But you were too thick
    Then your mother bust her gut
    And tried to make me think like her
    But I was too quick

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    Isn't it sad
    Well, I pity you now I'm not there
    Yes, I hope you pull through
    But you're locked in your social zoo

    Please shave your legs
    Come on, put down that horse and behave
    You know, I've seen it before
    I ain't never gonna see it no more, no, no, no
    Oh, yeah

    Well, your whole domestic scene
    And the way your life was run
    It made me so sick
    (So sick)
    That a nifty little number like you
    Could show anyone a few tricks

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    Composición: Steve Marriott

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