I see him look at you and speak with such eloquence
All I can do is rhyme "eloquence" with "precedence"
It's the only word I think about
When you're his and not mine
(So unkind, so unkind)

And it gets so annoying like a chick magazine
With Seventeen subscription cards shoved in between
They fall past my seat and they land at my feet
Right next to my pride
Now can you beat that?

What can I say?
I come from race cars and goth rock
And what can you do?
You're just California gridlock
A broken-down Camaro
Overheated, but you'll never know
You're the one that caused this crash

Seven days passed since your last break-up note
With its shaky and scribbled-out, started-over, broken words that you wrote
You know, having what you needed wasn't good enough for you
(Never do, never do)
And now you're in his house that's the size of a mall
I've never seen a grand piano look so fucking small
You know, it's probably one of many things that are small about him too

Oh what can I say?
I come from race cars and punk rock
And what can you do?
You're just California gridlock
A broken-down Camaro
Overheated, but you'll never know
You're the one that caused this

Can we just try to forget that we were ever very different?
'Cause the tattoo on your shoulder tells me, baby, that ain't true
But I like that in you
So quit trying to prove yourself
And wake up and lose yourself in me

And what can I say?
I come from race cars and cock rock
And what can you do?
You're just California gridlock
A broken-down Camaro
Overheated, but you'll never know
You're the one that caused this

What can I say?
I come from race cars an pop rocks
And what can you do?
You're just California gridlock
A broken-down Camaro
Overheated, but you'll never know
You're the one that caused this

Writer : WALKER, BUTCH
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing