I'm sick of being your girl next door -
sick of hearing about all the other chicks
you have there on your list,
while I'm just sitting by trying to look pretty,
trying to look pretty occupied with my life.
I have this way of letting people talk to me
about all of their troubles, all of their mistakes.
Well I'm through with it, because I've had it up to the roots of my hair.
Your whining and complaining is draining my patience.
I think I'm going to move to a new neighborhood.

Let's face it the girl doesn't like you.
Can't you tell by the way she treats you?
I thought you were smarter than this, smarter than this,
but all you do is reminisce about the good times you barely had.
I'm tired of waiting for you to knock on my door,
asking for something a little more than some spare sugar.
You're a disaster in the making, and I'm through with taking
the empty dreams that you throw at me
the ones with you and her, you and her.
I'm sick of being your girl next door.
Say good-bye to the nice me, oh, she doesn't live here anymore.

Do you remember how you breathed over me -
breathing down my neck about the girls you can get.
You made me feel special, oh so special
when you singled me out one day.
But it was only one day, baby, and I couldn't let it go.
One day, baby, I was reminiscing about the good times we never had.
And you're moved on to this precious little nothing.
She's nothing because she doesn't care about you.
Can you tell I'm done?
With being the good girl you always ran to.

Let's face it the girl doesn't like you.
Can't you tell by the way she treats you?
I thought I was smarter than this, smarter than this.
But here I go again, I'm trying to save your sinking ship.
This is the last time, I swear. This song is let you know
I'm tired of waiting for you to knock on my door,
to tell me I'm all that you ever asked for.
You're a disaster in the making, and I'm through with taking
the empty dreams that you throw at me
the ones that don't involve me- I'm totally gone.
I'm sick of being your girl next door.
Say good-bye to the nice me, oh, she doesn't live here anymore

You've been asking about me,
wanting to know to where I disappeared.
Well I'll let you know when you decide
to shape up, shape up -
Get your act together.
Shape up, shape up -
Treat me like I'm more than ventilator.

Because I'm sick of being the girl next door
in every situation,
lost in the same neighborhood for too many years.
I'll pack up my bags, pack up my sugar,
and when you need something sweet
you know where you won't find me.