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Norah Jones ›› I Got It Bad | | Never treats me sweet and gentle,
The way he should,
Cause I got it bad, and that ain't good.
My poor heart is sentimental,
Not made of wood,
I got it bad, and that ain't good.
But when the weekend's over,
And Monday rolls around,
My man and me, we pray some,
We gin some and sin some.
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He don't love me,
Like I love him,
Nobody could,
I got it bad, and that ain't good.
Now folks with good intentions,
Tell me to save my tears,
I'm glad I'm mad about him,
I can't live without him.
Lord above me,
Make him love me,
The way he should.
Like a lonesome weeping willow,
Lost in the wood,
The way I hug my pillow,
No woman should,
Because I got it bad, and that ain't good. | | I Got It Bad Norah Jones
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