ain’t it just like one of us to pick up the phone and call after a couple of drinks，
and say: "how you been? i been wonderin’ that maybe you’ve been thinkin’ ’bout me."
and somewhere in the conversation， an old familiar invitation always arrives，
an’ i may hate myself in the morning， but i’m gonna love you tonight.
everyone’s known someone that they just can’t help but want;
and even though we just can’t make it work out， well the want-to lingers on.
so once again we wind up in each other’s arms， pretending that it’s right，
an’ i may hate myself in the morning， but i’m gonna love you tonight.
i know it’s wrong， but it ain’t easy moving on.
so why can’t two friends remember the good times once again?
tomorrow when i wake up， i’ll be feeling a little guilty， an’ a little sad，
thinkin’ how it used to be before everything went bad.
an’ i guess that’s what it is， in lonely late night calls like this， that we try to find;
an’ i may hate myself in th