He don’t treat her right or even know what her needs are. Her friends all know it but he won’t let them come near her. And she thinks that she has found a guy who is sweeter. Well, he don’t treat her right, but I don’t, either.
So sing a song for all those scoundrels and cheaters, the low down dirty dogs and emotional deadbeaters. Yes, raise your glass up high and let your spirits flow free. Drink to the scoundrels and drink to me.
He don’t treat her right, he don’t show her affection. And I would call her every night, but I must exercise discretion. And I would buy her baubles, but I don’t for fear of detection. Well, he don’t treat her right, but I don’t either, for my own protection.
So stand upon the slippery slope and toast unaccountable actions and all the shades of gray on their infinite axis. Options are always three hundred and sixty degrees, so you can choose to drink or not, but either way, you’ll be doing it for me.
He don’t treat her right, not the type who would be there. Not like I will be for my wife, though I have yet to meet her. And I myself am not the type to be some sort of deceiver. This is different, cause he don’t treat her right, what’s the difference if I don’t, either?