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You’re Working Out Your Bag
L.C. Cooke
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I believe, I believe
Though you done nothing that I can see
Still, I believe, I believe
From the things people keep telling me
I believe, I believe
Don't you know I believe
You're working out your bag on me
I believe, I believe
Though you done nothing that I can see
I believe, I believe
From the things the people are telling me
I believe, I believe
Don't you know I believe
You're working out your bag on me
I went to my friend's house the other day
I rang the doorbell, he told me to wait
He got an elevator, he made me climb the stairs
When I got up I smelled the perfume that you wear
I believe, I believe
You got me wrapped up in misery
I believe, I believe
Don't you know I believe
You're working out your bag on me
A lot of things happened I can't figure out
I've been trying to give you the benefit of the doubt
Came home the other day, turned on the light
Cigar butts was in the ashtray when you know I smoked my pipe
I believe, I believe
You got me wrapped up in misery
I believe, I believe
Don't you know that I believe
You're working out your bag on me, work
I believe, sure 'nough I believe
You must been mistreat me, 'cause I believe
You must have found somebody new, I believe
Why don't you tell me, I do believe