You Know I'm No Good - Amy Winehouse

Meet you downstairs in the bar and hurt.

Your rolled up sleeves in your skull t-shirt.

You say, “What did you do with him today?”

And sniffed me out like I was Tanqueray.

'Cause you're my fella, my guy.

Hand me your Stella and fly.

By the time I'm out the door

you tear men down like Roger Moore.

Upstairs in bed with my ex-boy

He's in a place but I can't get joy.

Thinking on you in the final throes,

this is when my buzzer goes.

Run out to meet your chips and pitta.

You say: “When we're married?,” cause you're not bitter.

There'll be none of him no more,

I cried for you on the kitchen floor.

Sweet reunion, Jamaica and Spain,

we're like how we were again.

I'm in the tub, you on the seat,

lick your lips as I soak my feet.

Then you notice little carpet burn,

my stomach drops and my guts churn.

You shrug and it's the worst.

Who truly stuck the knife in first?