Caro Emerald

The lipstick on his collar
The clock has ticked eleven and the place is clear
Reality is kicking in and so is my beer
I don't make excuses when it's all my fault
If a heart is made of money he's cleaned out my vault
I feel a little wounded and it isn't fair
To sit inside a parlor and see him standing over there
As smug as a robber that a cop can't catch
The lipstick on his collar doesn't seem to match mine
(Mine, doesn't seem to match mine, mine)
Now Joe behind the bar is offering advice