There once was a girlnWho married a boynAnd he hit hernOver and over again and againnConcussion were plentynAnd her Mama said Baby,nThat's not love, that's not lovenThat you pretend.nnMaybe she likes it, maybe it feels like a kissnMaybe she needs it, maybe she wants it like this,nMaybe she likes itnnShe cooked his foodnAnd took his abusenWithout batting a blackened eyelidnNobody knew why she kept going backnThe way she did, oh the way she didnnMaybe she likes it, maybe it feels like a kissnMaybe she needs it, maybe she wants it like this,nMaybe she likes itnnShe'll keep going backnShe'll keep going back to himnWhen she's under attack nShe's still tattooed to his skinnShe'll keep going backnnHer father saidnShe won't learn a thingnUntil she's dead, oh until she's deadnHer brow was stained with crimson rednFrom all the blows to the headnnMaybe she likes it, maybe it feels like a kissnMaybe she needs it, maybe she wants it like this,nMaybe she likes it