There's a song For the girl that I can't fuck Give me your name and number, baby After all, you're bad luck When it's morning in New York And it's evening in L.A I know it's sad you get so lonely, baby You can't find the words to say You can call me up I'll put you on Give me your name and number, baby I'll reach your phone When I'm lying in my room And your body appearing on my radio Well I know you saw the future, baby I've got to get it through to you You can call me up I'll put you on Give me your name and number, baby I'll reach your phone And I know this song for the girl that I can't fuck And I know this song, after all, you're bad luck Yeah, yeah, yeah I'll put you on I'll reach your phone I'll reach your phone When I'm staring at my roof And your body appearing on my radio When I'm thinking, oh, can you? Well, I guess that's the way these things go