I look at my telephone book

I look at my telephone book

I can't stand the way it look

I hate to think the way you took me down into a burnin' rage

I wrote your name on every page

You don't return my calls

You don't return my calls

You don't return my calls

I'm ready to bust down the walls

I'm going down Niagara Falls in a barrel of fun

Hey, ain't I a lucky one?

You don't return my calls

My telephone book is the color red

My telephone book is the color red

The red is all in my head

Some things are left better unsaid

Is that why you don't try to acknowledge or reply

Why you don't return my calls?

Look at my telephone book

I look at my telephone book

I can't stand the way it look

I hate to think the way you took me down into a burnin' rage

I wrote your name on every page

You don't return my calls

Did you hear from an old friend I knew once way back when?

I did some bad things to myself and my health

Or did you happen to hear an old song I once sang?

Did it make your sweet, sweet blood run cold in your veins?

Will you never think of me the same?