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's 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's running too late nowput your quarter in and you know you won't be found. I know inside that your'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.
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