Never Really Yours

Never Really Yours

Ben Connelly
C 1999 BMI
Rosalind Hind Songs
612-821-8736

I’d say she’s nineteen, she dresses like she’s nine
and smokes as though she just turned forty-four.
Hanging at the arcade with all her little pals,
wondering who’ll be coming by with more.

Chorus: “I was never really yours, mama,
I was never really yours.”
Through her mother’s screen door,
She says, “I was never really yours.”

Tony’s got his daddy’s car, he’s coming by at nine.
Eddy jacked his cousin’s forty-four.

Chorus: “I was never really yours, mama,
I was never really yours.”
Through her mother’s screen door,
She says, “I was never really yours.”

Another night in Tulsa, the boombox packs a nine,
blast out of town on U.S. forty-four.

She says she’ll trade in her forties for one of her nine lives.
She says she’ll trade drinkin’ forties for one of her nine lives.

I’d say she’s nineteen, she dresses like she’s nine
and smokes as though she just turned forty-four.
Hanging at the arcade with all her little pals,
wondering who’ll be coming by with more.

Chorus: “I was never really yours, mama,
I was never really yours.”
Through her mother’s screen door,
She says, “I was never really yours.”