Why every time when
something hurts someone
Always comes up and
wants to make it worse?
I'll never make the
cover of a rolling stone
But at least I know my
life is my own On my back
porch what it will mean.
On my notes tell me
what they'll mean
Splitting up the difference
between one and two Doesn't
make a difference between
me and you What the signs
they say the trucks are
weaving back And forth on
Any day but Sunday
at four o' clock
And the meter is running
too late Now put your
quarter in and you know
you won't be found
I know inside that
you're afraid of me
I've become all the
things That I said
I would be something
more Than rehearsed
the pain I feel contained
I look in the mirror
and I saw someone else
then
then