Right kind of Wrong

Verse 1

She walked in cool as a burnin’ fire,

Sweet little trouble in a churchgirl choir,

Had a “Hello Darlin’” smile and a goodbye kiss,

Yeah, every red flag looked like wedded bliss.

Said, “Boy, you clean up nice,” with a wink and grin,

Now I still ain’t sure what kinda dirt she meant,

She likes her coffee black and her whiskey neat,

And her “come on over” talks in tangled sheets.

Pre-Chorus

She’s a hard easy woman,

With a loud silence stare,

Got a bittersweet wild side

Floatin’ through the air.

Chorus

She’s the right kind of wrong,

A little straight-up crooked in a midnight song,

Talks dirty clean in them painted-on jeans,

Leaves me high down the middle of my dreams.

Yeah, we fight in peace,

Love reckless careful underneath the sheets,

She says “bless your heart” while she’s cuttin’ me down,

And I still come around.

Lord, she’s the right kind of wrong.

Verse 2

We got drunk sober on a Friday night,

Burned one bridge while we crossed it twice,

She said “Honey, dust the shelf,” then laughed out loud,

Now I’m still confused but she seemed real proud.

She can overlook me or oversee me too,

That woman’s “bound” to leave or tied onto you,

Says “I’m fine” like a tornado warning sign,

And somehow that danger tastes like homemade wine.

Pre-Chorus

She’s an honest liar,

With a clearly confused tattoo,

Makes bad good decisions

Like only she can do.

Chorus

She’s the right kind of wrong,

A little straight-up crooked in a midnight song,

Talks dirty clean in them painted-on jeans,

Leaves me high down the middle of my dreams.

Yeah, we fight in peace,

Love reckless careful underneath the sheets,

She says “bless your heart” while she’s cuttin’ me down,

And I still come around.

Lord, she’s the right kind of wrong.

Bridge

She “sanctions” my habits every Friday night,

Could mean she approves or starts a fight,

Says “clip the roses,” now I’m scared to death,

Am I trimmin’ flowers or losin’ what’s left?

She’s a definite maybe,

My favorite mess,

A perfectly broken

Blue jean dress.

Final Chorus

She’s the right kind of wrong,

A backroad angel with a devil singalong,

Got a cold hot touch and a sweet mean grin,

Every goodbye pulls me back again.

Yeah, she’s pretty ugly

In the prettiest way,

And every night morning

She steals my stay.

I oughta leave her alone…

But lonely together feels too good to let go.

Outro

Yeah, she’s my little oxymoron,

Boots on the dance floor at the break of dawn,

A little heaven, little hell all night long…

The right kind of wrong.