Maybe it just got so cold
that my brain went numb
and kind of froze.
Or maybe you'd have that effect on me
no matter where I was
or what I drink.
All I know is, I played with fate.
I always do, and still I drank.
One shot, two shots, three, not four.
Just tipsy enough
to want it more.
Whoever let me keep my phone
is a kind of stupid all their own.
Cause here I am, sun and snow,
and I'm texting you,
oh shit, oh no.
We're friends for sure,
but they don't understand.
When I get horny,
game over, no chance.
I run my mouth,
I talk you up,
at least I didn't mention
my thing for blood.
And can I blame it on the spicy drink?
I hope you'll buy it,
hope you'll believe.
Hope you'll believe that I didn't mean
how much I want you to be with me.
I hope whatever we had
can stay untouched, un-fucked up.
Next time I should be more careful
when I mix snow and Tequila.