You’re always scratchin’ at the eight ball,
No one really knows the reason why. You get to the top and then you fall,
Gonna hang down your head and cry. Your enemies are gettin’ nearer,
Gonna hang down your head and cry
You got bad, bad luck
Bad, bad luck
You got bad, bad luck
Bad, bad luck
Some people go to church on Sundays,
Others they pray at home. Some people like to gamble,
But you, you always lose. You tell them that there ain’t no God,
That they’re better off standin’ alone. Some people like to rock ‘n’ roll,
You’re always singin’ the blues
You gotta nasty disposition,
No one really knows the reason why,
You gotta bad, bad reputation,
Gonna hang your head down and cry
You got bad, bad luck
Bad, bad luck
You got bad, bad luck
Bad, bad luck
Thirteen’s my lucky number,
To you it means stay inside. You’re looking through a cracked mirror,
No one really knows the reason why. Black cat done crossed my path,
No reason to run and hide.