I look at my telephone book
   I look at my telephone book
   I can't stand the way it look
   I hate to think the way you took
   me down into a burnin' rage
   I wrote your name on every page
   but you don't return my calls
   you don't return my calls
   you don't return my calls
   I'm ready to bust down the walls
   I'm going down Niagara Falls
   in a barrel of fun
   hey ain't I a lucky one
   you don't return my calls
   my telephone book is the color red
   my telephone book is the color red
   the red is all in my head
   some things are left better unsaid
   is that why you don't try
   to acknowledge or reply
   you don't return my calls
   why did you hear from an old friend
   I knew once way back when
   I did some bad things to myself and my health
   or did you happen to hear an old song I once sang
   did it make your sweet sweet blood run cold in your veins
   and will you never think of me the same