Maybe Next Time

I've been worried about losin' my touch
The better I seem to get in the boudoir
The worse I get at writin'
When I said I was thinking about Hannah
And her sisters
And how Woody Allen gets with
Hannah's sister at the end
But don't take that the wrong way
I thought I was funny as hell
You half-affirmed it, as well
We made mad passionate love on your floor
And I spilled wine on the sheets
That's so typical of me
I closed the blinds and you shut the door
That's out roles in this partnership of sin
No self-control
Pour me another, it's July, but it's pissin' down
I'm going back to strike up the band for a gig
In the serious art centre
Nothing to do with Sirius FM
In that spirit, serious clouds are loomin'
But it's tanning booth blue skies in here with your body
And your perfect tipsy aftertaste
Meanwhile, I'm just stinking drunk

I been down to the places in the woods
They're gonna recreate a pinewood where
They make the film of my life
I'm the Martin Freeman type
We'll be french kissing a girl who looks
The spit of Helena Bonham Carter in her prime
In the first five minutes
Then we cut to you, looking on
Played by someone who will
Never do you justice
Even though I try
In my memoirs
Published by Penguin Classics
'Cause even I
Can't get you right
Last night, last night
Will be our little secret
I don't wanna cannibalize it
For progressive prose, like lyrics
Oh, shit
Maybe next time
Maybe next time