[Intro] (Hiss and pops of a 1930s record revolving on a record player; then followed by Soft brass intro, light piano) Oh, sugar, I’ve seen your kind before… [Verse 1] You’re just a backseat Casanova, see, Riding high on jealousy, And counterfeit chivalry, All smoke and shine, No class, no spine. You’re selling lies and chasing thrills, Downing gin and dodging bills, The same ol' line you sell each dame, But everybody knows, You’re just a passing show [Pre-Chorus 1] And you, I don't like your tone, Every conversation blown Because you Are just A heavy breather on the telephone [Chorus] You make me sick, I never cared, You’re so unhinged, I’m actually downright scared. You hit full speed, Gave me the creeps, A two-bit leech, not in my league. You gave me the ick, I hit the brakes, A piece of trash, I swept away, Stay in your lane, You’re just the backseat. [Verse 2] You told the world you want a bride, While sneakin’ flappers on the side, Red-light parlors every night, But I watched you crash, No one wants you back. You’ve got no looks, you’ve got no brains, You stole my rouge, that’s just insane, Your only clout is from my name, But that didn't last, I made sure of that. [Pre-Chorus 2] And you, Are the worst one yet, Told them of your debts, Now you, Are banned, From every club on the Rio Grande. [Chorus] You make me sick, I never cared, You’re so unhinged, I’m actually downright scared. You hit full speed, Gave me the creeps, A two-bit leech, not in my league. You gave me the ick, I hit the brakes, A piece of trash, I swept away, Stay in your lane, You’re just the backseat. [Instrumental] (Trumpet solo — slow swing, walking bass) [Bridge] You really are a maniac, All my gals said, “Baby, step back,” You’re just a Joe Blow, Go shave your back, Egomaniac — We’ve seen your kind before. [Chorus] (sung intimately into the microphone) You make me sick, I never cared, You’re so unhinged, I’m actually downright scared. You hit full speed, Gave me the creeps, A two-bit leech, not in my league. You gave me the ick, I hit the brakes, A piece of trash, I swept away, Stay in your lane, You’re just the backseat. [Outro] (Soft piano fade, cigarette smoke in the air) You’re just the backseat, Yeah, sugar — just the backseat.
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