She’s an artist, she’s a harlot
Dressed in black, dear departed
And she left him for dead on the side of the road
With her war paint on, and her soul just sold
Whoa, girl, it’s not like I’m a saint
So call me back before it gets too late
I said a lotta things that, damn, girl, I just hate
Like I love you, and go put on your war paint
She’s a wild horse, always running
She’s a pistol, always gunning
She’s got a devilish vein running through her soul
But she’s just another angel, playing just another role
Whoa, girl, it’s not like I’m a saint
So call me back before it gets too late
I said a lotta things that, damn, girl, I just hate
Like I love you, and go put on your war paint
Whoa, girl, it’s not like I’m a saint
So call me back before it gets too late
I said a lotta things that, damn, girl, I just hate
Like I love you, and go put on your war paint
Whoa, girl, it’s not like I’m a saint
So call me back before it gets too late
I said a lotta things that, damn, girl, I just hate
Like I love you, and go put on your war paint
Whoa, girl, it’s not like we're the same
You're all made up, it's driving me insane
We battle all night, fighting through the pain
For the love, but you just wake up in your war paint
