Meet you downstairs in the bar and hurt.
Your rolled up sleeves in your skull t-shirt.
You say ‘what did you do with him today?’
And sniffed me out like I was Tanqueray.
‘Cause you’re my fella, my guy.
Hand me your stella and fly.
By the time I’m out the door.
You tear men down like Roger Moore.

You Know I’m No Good
Amy Winehouse (2007), Back to Black