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The Scenic – Not Enough To Love lyrics
And I count the stairs
Up to her apartment
She's taking me home for the night
And all that it took was a drink and a lie.
She's done this before
I'm not the first liar she's fallen for
She's had too much to drink
And despite what she thinks
She doesn't mean anything to me.
Would you call this love?
Would you call this anything other than just enough?
To feel alive
Now I pull her close
She's freezing but I still slip off her coat
I can't remember her name
But this s***s all the same
With her clothes in a pile on the floor.
Would you call this love?
Would you call this any thing
Other than just enough
For the two of us
To feel alive
And I'm not such a bad guy you know
But I get what I want
And I'm dying to get you
Out of your clothes
Whoa Whoa
(x2)
She's had too much to drink
She's taking me home for the night
Theres a thousand other bars on the East Coast
And a thousand other girls I can get drunk and take home.
You can bet yourself that I'll do this again.
Would you call this love? Would you call this any thing but just enough?
You're a shameful display of my pride and disdain all rolled into one
Lying under the sheets next to me.
Come tomorrow, I won't call.
And I count the stairs down from her apartment
Up to her apartment
She's taking me home for the night
And all that it took was a drink and a lie.
She's done this before
I'm not the first liar she's fallen for
She's had too much to drink
And despite what she thinks
She doesn't mean anything to me.
Would you call this love?
Would you call this anything other than just enough?
To feel alive
Now I pull her close
She's freezing but I still slip off her coat
I can't remember her name
But this s***s all the same
With her clothes in a pile on the floor.
Would you call this love?
Would you call this any thing
Other than just enough
For the two of us
To feel alive
And I'm not such a bad guy you know
But I get what I want
And I'm dying to get you
Out of your clothes
Whoa Whoa
(x2)
She's had too much to drink
She's taking me home for the night
Theres a thousand other bars on the East Coast
And a thousand other girls I can get drunk and take home.
You can bet yourself that I'll do this again.
Would you call this love? Would you call this any thing but just enough?
You're a shameful display of my pride and disdain all rolled into one
Lying under the sheets next to me.
Come tomorrow, I won't call.
And I count the stairs down from her apartment
Lyrics taken from
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