You've broken every rebel but you couldn't brake a bill,
You revel in your nightmares and appreciate the still,
No one really know's you but you want to hear your name,
What's wrong now little poet? You've only got yourself to blame,
Because you can't live off of love, not new or old anymore...
The pavements hold the cracks that you kissed yesterday,
But today is moving to fast so you can't give them the time if day,
So ring little poet, yeah ring about your rain,
Until your bones are dried out by the harsher sun of day
Because you can't live off of love, not new or old anymore... anymore.
I'm being scolded through your windows and I'd gladly lick your floor,
I'm just saying little poet, each day I love you more,
And I won't cry, I won't cry when the clouds burst,
I will stick my tongue out proud and taste November's rain,
Which happens to be sour, again.
See how you have tortured everyone who cares,
Our hearts are in our hands now while you get all the stares,
Bleeding out the answers to questions you are scared,
To ask for protection or a helping hand to lend,
But then dedication ain't the same as protection,
How do you feel about that?
You're so good at pointing fingers and backing out of corners,
Darting poison with your tongue, are you the money or the man?
Award shows in your mirror, carelessness not fear, I swear...
I'm being sunburned through your window but I'd gladly lick your floor,
I'm just saying little daydream, each night I love you more.
And I won't cry, I won't cry when the sun bursts, I will stick my head up proud
And taste December's rain, which happens to be sour,
It just happens to be sour, yeah it just happens to be sour,
Again.