All your bases have been filled,
With pretty players from the field.
Compared to them you make me feel,
Like an amateur.
I didn't know love could be played,
Like a holy rollin' ball game.
You keep pushin' me away,
When I used to be on first.
You're a headache,
And a heartache,
And a half.
I don't know how long my tolerance will last.
Any other would recover from the past,
but I'm a sore loser,
Yeah, a sore loser,
I'm a sore loser at bat.
I do believe you rig the game,
Just to make the hall of fame.
You bend the rules to fit your play,
You won't admit you hit a foul.
You overlook your own shortcomings,
A loser when it comes to loving.
A winner when it comes to running,
That's why you're always striking out.
You're a headache,
and a heartache,
and a half.
I don't know how long my tolerance will last.
Any other would recover from the past,
But I'm a sore loser, yeah,
A sore loser,
I'm a sore loser at bat.
Ohh, I'm done playing the minor leagues,
I'm gonna blow this ballpark,
Cause these cleats were made for walking,
So I ain't returning, I'm burning my uniform.
You're a headache,
and a heartache,
and a half.
I don't know how long my tolerance will last.
Any other would recover from the past,
But I'm a sore loser,
yeah, a sore loser.
I'm a sore loser,
Yeah I'm a sore loser,
I'm a sore loser at bat.
Ohh yeah.
[Thanks to spotlight723 for adding these lyrics]