"LEFTOVERS" lyrics

Piping hot, right off the menu
The specialty of the day
You've got a late-night craving
Me, on the plate
I won't ask "How can I help you?"
Or take down your first name
You phone up every girl
This ain't a buffet

You want something quick and easy, steamy
Dropped right at your doorstep
Don't you get power-hungry, funny
You think you can treat me like

Takeout
Punch my number, lick your lips
Fiending for a fix
Of the new delicacy dish, we'll never
Make out
Sweatpants hanging round your hips
Satiate your appetite
Then shove me in the fridge

I refuse to take orders
I won't be your leftovers
(Oh, we don't offer delivery)

Boys like you are so entitled
To think if they beg and plead
They've earned the right to take a bite
Of fresh meat
Counting down to my arrival
Too lazy to leave your couch
A fleeting taste of me
Would knock you out, ouch

I'm safe from your scathing ratings
If I cater to your liking
Is that a threat? Bring on the press
'Cause I won't let you treat me like

Takeout
Punch my number, lick your lips
Fiending for a fix
Of the new delicacy dish, we'll never
Make out
Sweatpants hanging round your hips
Satiate your appetite
Then shove me in the fridge

I refuse to take orders
I won't be your leftovers

Don't have a nice day
Don't come back soon
Not open for service
Not open for you
Box me up to go
Leave me out to dry
'Cause after the first whiff
You treat me like

Takeout
Punch my number and you'll learn
Heat me up
And I won't be the only thing that burns

Takeout
Punch my number, lick your lips
Fiending for a fix
Of the new delicacy dish, we'll never
Make out
Sweatpants hanging round your hips
Satiate your appetite
Then shove me in the fridge

I refuse to take orders
I won't be your leftovers