I'm Sick of You
Iggy Pop Lyrics


Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴  Line by Line Meaning ↴

Goodbye, Betsy, I'm goin' away
I'm sick of you and there ain't no way
Don't want to know, don't want to see
Don't you ever bother me

Sick of hanging around your pad
Sick of your Mom and sick of your Dad
Yes and Betsy, it's sad but true
Now I'm even sick of you

No way, no way, no way
No way, no way, no way
No way for our love
No way for our love
'Cause I'm sick of you

Good bye, Betsy, I'm going away
I'm sick of you and I don't wanna stay
Don't want to know, don't want to see
Don't you ever bother me

Sick of hanging in around your pad
Sick of your mom and sick of your dad
Yes and Betsy it's sad but true
Now I'm even sick of you

No way, no way, no way
No way, no way, no way
No way for our love
No way for our love

Every evening and every day
Seem to always turn out this way
To get an end, I better find new love
Then you'll pay, then you'll pay, ain't no way
'Cause I'm sick of you

Goodbye, Betsy, I'm going away
I'm sick of you and I don't wanna stay




Don't want to know, don't want to see
Don't you ever bother me

Overall Meaning

The lyrics of Iggy Pop's song "I'm Sick of You" overtly express the singer's frustration with Betsy, his girlfriend. He is making it clear to her that he is done with the relationship, and there is no way to salvage it. Through his constant repetition of "No way for our love," he emphasizes that their love is past the point of redemption. In the opening lines, he says, "I'm sick of you, and there ain't no way/Don't want to know, don't want to see/Don't you ever bother me." These lines demonstrate that the singer has reached a point of indifference towards Betsy, and he just wants to move on.


In the second verse, he further expresses his dissatisfaction with Betsy by stating, "Sick of hanging around your pad/Sick of your Mom and sick of your dad/Yes, and Betsy, it's sad but true/Now I'm even sick of you." Here, he not only expresses his rejection of Betsy but also mentions the detachment he feels towards her family. In the final verse, the singer decides to move on to find new love and leave Betsy alone to face the consequences of her actions.


Line by Line Meaning

Goodbye, Betsy, I'm goin' away
I am leaving you, Betsy.


I'm sick of you and there ain't no way
I am tired of being with you and cannot continue this relationship.


Don't want to know, don't want to see
I do not want to be in any contact with you.


Don't you ever bother me
Please never disturb me again.


Sick of hanging around your pad
I am fed up with spending time in your home.


Sick of your Mom and sick of your Dad
I am tired of your parents as well.


Yes and Betsy, it's sad but true
It is unfortunate but it is how I feel.


Now I'm even sick of you
And now, I am even tired of you.


No way for our love
We cannot continue this relationship.


'Cause I'm sick of you
Because I am tired of being with you.


Every evening and every day
Every time we spend together.


Seem to always turn out this way
Always end up feeling the same.


To get an end, I better find new love
To end this, I need to find a new partner.


Then you'll pay, then you'll pay, ain't no way
Once I move on, you will regret losing me.


I'm sick of you and I don't wanna stay
I am tired of being with you and want to leave.




Lyrics © Kanjian Music, BMG Rights Management, Songtrust Ave
Written by: JAMES OSTERBERG, JAMES WILLIAMSON

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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Most interesting comments from YouTube:

@Fiza

Goodbye Betsy I'm goin' away
I'm sick of you and there ain't no way
don't want to know, don't want to see
don't you ever bother me
Sick of hanging around your pad
Sick of your Mom and sick of your Dad
Yeah and Betsy,
its sad but true,
now I'm even sick of you.
No way, no way, no way
No way, no way, no way
No way, for our love
No way for our love
'cause I'm sick of You.
Good bye Betsy I'm going away.
Sick of you and i don't want to stay
don't want to know, don't want to see
don't you ever bother me
Sick of hanging around your pad
Sick of your mom and sick of your Dad
Yes and Betsy its sad but true
Now I'm even sick of you.
No way, no way, no way
No way, no way, no way
No way, for our love,
No way for our love
'cause I'm sick of you
Every evening and every day,
Seem to always turn out this way,
To get an end
I better find new love,
then you'll pay,
then you'll pay,
ain't no way.
'cause I'm sick of you.
Goodbye Betsy I'm going away,
Sick of you and i don't want to stay
don't want to know , don't want to see
don't you ever, bother me ....



@benbaker4685

S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse 
 A persona che mai tornasse al mondo, 
 Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse. 
 Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo 
 Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero, 
 Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo. 
 
  
LET us go then, you and I,  
When the evening is spread out against the sky  
Like a patient etherized upon a table;  
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,  
The muttering retreats         5 
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels  
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:  
Streets that follow like a tedious argument  
Of insidious intent  
To lead you to an overwhelming question….         10 
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”  
Let us go and make our visit.  
  
In the room the women come and go  
Talking of Michelangelo.  
  
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,         15 
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes  
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,  
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,  
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,  
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,         20 
And seeing that it was a soft October night,  
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.  
  
And indeed there will be time  
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,  
Rubbing its back upon the window panes;         25 
There will be time, there will be time  
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;  
There will be time to murder and create,  
And time for all the works and days of hands  
That lift and drop a question on your plate;         30 
Time for you and time for me,  
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,  
And for a hundred visions and revisions,  
Before the taking of a toast and tea.  
  
In the room the women come and go         35 
Talking of Michelangelo.  
  
And indeed there will be time  
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”  
Time to turn back and descend the stair,  
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—         40 
(They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)  
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,  
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—  
(They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”)  
Do I dare         45 
Disturb the universe?  
In a minute there is time  
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.  
  
For I have known them all already, known them all:  
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,         50 
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;  
I know the voices dying with a dying fall  
Beneath the music from a farther room.  
  So how should I presume?  
  
And I have known the eyes already, known them all—         55 
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,  
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,  
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,  
Then how should I begin  
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?         60 
  And how should I presume?  
  
And I have known the arms already, known them all—  
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare  
(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)  
Is it perfume from a dress         65 
That makes me so digress?  
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.  
  And should I then presume?  
  And how should I begin?
.      .      .      .      .      .      .      .  
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets         70 
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes  
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…  
  
I should have been a pair of ragged claws  
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
.      .      .      .      .      .      .      .  
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!         75 
Smoothed by long fingers,  
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,  
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.  
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,  
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?         80 
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,  
Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,  
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;  
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,  
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,         85 
And in short, I was afraid.  
  
And would it have been worth it, after all,  
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,  
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,  
Would it have been worth while,         90 
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,  
To have squeezed the universe into a ball  
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,  
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,  
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—         95 
If one, settling a pillow by her head,  
  Should say: “That is not what I meant at all;  
  That is not it, at all.”  
  
And would it have been worth it, after all,  
Would it have been worth while,         100 
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,  
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—  
And this, and so much more?—  
It is impossible to say just what I mean!  
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:         105 
Would it have been worth while  
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,  
And turning toward the window, should say:  
  “That is not it at all,  
  That is not what I meant, at all.”
.      .      .      .      .      .      .      .         110 
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;  
Am an attendant lord, one that will do  
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,  
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,  
Deferential, glad to be of use,         115 
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;  
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;  
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—  
Almost, at times, the Fool.  
  
I grow old … I grow old …         120 
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.  
  
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?  
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.  
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.  
  
I do not think that they will sing to me.         125 
  
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves  
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back  
When the wind blows the water white and black.  
  
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea  
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown         130 
Till human voices wake us, and we drown. 
 



All comments from YouTube:

@themitchies

That riff is hypnotic.

@ethanhill9460

Cymbal work makes the intro.

@ExileTheKnightsOfMaltaNow

Just the right amount of tremolo... one has to wonder if there wasn't a revolving cabinet involved in the recording? Maybe one of those Yamaha amps that Pink Floyd made famous.. Yamaha ra 200 if you can find one? They are in high demand.. despite all the digital mimicry

@stolenskooma1826

​@@ExileTheKnightsOfMaltaNow I think it's a maestro phase shifter

@ExileTheKnightsOfMaltaNow

@@stolenskooma1826 LOL once I traded a Mesa Boogie revolving cabinet for a mandolin

@den9009

🤝😂😉🦍

1 More Replies...

@katarinask139

This song could honestly be released any time and still sound fresh and new. Amazing.

@katarinask139

@chercherlee what

@sartoris9439

Iggy Pop and the Stooges were a life changing band.

@erkjan

yepp

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