Flew in on a paper plane
Drove a matchbox into town
He cried when he spilled his drink
And drowned
Only made it halfway past
On the way to get her back
6.50 to a gallon
Darn
I could buy you a private jet
I could get you any car you want
I could buy you brand new shoes
If I liked working
Like I like money
Like I love you
Coughing dust and counting cards
Behind the radio shack
Seeing sparks as all the cars
Move past
Scratched off one by one
Three for you and eight for me
Lucky numbers like shooting stars
We can't see
I could buy you a private jet
I could get you any car you want
I could buy you brand new shoes
If I liked working
Like I like money
Like I love you
Like I love you
Like I love you
Poured out what was left
My reflection in the gas
Said, nothing left to burn through
But you
Nothing left to burn through
Nothing left to burn through
Nothing left to burn through
Nothing left to burn through
Nothing left to burn through
Nothing left to burn through
Nothing left to burn through
But you