Sorry Sorry

Well, I met this girl on a Saturday night Saturday night Saturday night Saturday night Saturday night Saturday night She sat there all alone With a Shirley Temple And a cellular phone No one to call No one to ring 'Cause no one's home The bartender knew her number and name I grabbed my cell phone And gave her a ring Wrong number I guess I gotta do it the hard way I walked up to her having seen the future Sorry, sorry, for making your life a living hell I'm sorry, sorry for making your life a living hell But that wasn't me; that was my alter ego 'Cause that wasn't me; that was Johnny Rockets She was so confused From a point of view I would be confused too I'm so rude; what was I thinking? But, but she dug my hair and my new suede shoes so much She drug me straight, drug me straight to her room And I was forgetting what I was doing Two hours later we lay on the bed And I said, sorry, sorry for making your life a living hell Sorry, sorry for making your life a living hell That wasn't me; that was alter ego That wasn't me; that was Johnny Rockets I'm sorry, sorry for making your life a living hell (I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry) I'm sorry, sorry for making your life a living hell (I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry) I'm sorry sorry for making your life I'm sorry sorry for making your life I'm sorry sorry for making your life a living hell