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Regretting What I Said...

This song is called "Regretting what I said to you when you called me at 11:00
on Friday morning to tell me that 1:00 Friday afternoon you were gonna leave
your office, go downstairs, hail a cab, to go out to the airport, to catch a
plane, to go skiing in the Alps for two weeks. Not that I wanted to go with you;
I wasn't able to leave town, I'm not a very good skier, I couldn't expect you to
pay my way, but after going out with you for three years, I don't like surprises.
(And it's subtitled "A Musical Apology". In this song, I attempt to take back
everything I said while standing in a phone booth at the corner of 49th and 3rd)

I didn't mean it when I said I hope
The cable in the elevator snaps when you step on board.
And I was joking when I said I hope you crack your head
And get mangled by the downstairs revolving doors.
And I was kidding when I said I hope the Number one-o-three bus
Hits and makes a pancake out of you.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
Isn't it amazing what a woman in love will do?

And I really don't want to see your taxi
On the 59th Street Bridge
Flip over and crash through the rail.
And I'd feel bad if at the airport
You were mistaken for a local sex offender,
Arrested, beaten up, and thrown in jail.
And I really don't want to see you getting
Radiation poisoning from the metal detector that all passengers
On foreign and domestic flights must walk through.
I'm sorry, forgive me
For all the mean things I said to you.

You thought I didn't have a temper.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, surprise!
But I really don't want to see you dismembered
By the marijuana sniffing dogs,
When a simple little nipping would suffice, would suffice.

And I'm sorry that I said I hope
The flight attendant spills hot coffee in your lap as the plane
carries you away from me
And I'm sorry that I said
I hope you break both legs
On the mountain while you ski.
And I'm sorry for all the nasty things
I said about your mother
(Even though we both know they're true).
I'm sorry, forgive me,
I'm swallowing my pride,
I'd feel so guilty if you died,
Oh, I'm sorry, but I'm still mad at you.
Words and Music by Christine Lavin/Flip-A-Jig
Music ASCAP & Happy Valley Music BMI
Copyright 1986, Palindrome Records, Philo