Lyrics

You said I did you so decently to go and give you a free shot at me,
I guess my reflexes are slow,
You call me louche and 'so déclassé', blowing French, like your lunch-hour vape,
At a split lip on a bruised ego,

And you remind me painfully of my declining taste and weak mind,
But I'll be fine if it gets no worse,
And you remind me tastefully of my abiding faith in cheap wine,
Yeah I will be fine,
Oh baby, if it gets no worse than you.

What was that book, that won the prize, that you read,
That made your friends all feel so wise in the head?
All I said was the prose was poor,
You jump to your mother's 'cause I made a mistake,
Think I'm jumping after, like you fell in the lake,
I'll see you when you can take no more.

(chorus)

If it gets no worse, oh baby, I will be just fine,
You know that I can do the time,
And I won't cry, cry, cry, not I, no!