Working Titles

You could mess up my life in a poem

Have me divorced by the time of the chorus

There's no need to change any sentence

When you always decide where I go next

Many nights you would hide from the audience

When they were not in tune with your progress

In the end you're a fool like the journalist

Who turns what you sing into business

You could use to be more like a hero

A darker shade of damage distortion

Wearing death like a cape or a costume

Cut your ties and leave town when you want to

Killing time 'til I pass through the chamber

Or the room you keep my replacement

So fed up, still you're starving on paper

You're no him, but he's you, only better

Leave me an exit to damage

I could use a ledge to jump off of

I wasn't lying when I said this was over

I have questions that lead to more questions

Running time that will cut off my fingers

You wrote about me on every new record

And I'll show up in a title of your song

I only hope somebody requests it

What's it like for you in Washington

I've only seen photos of Washington

I'll never know

Leave me Manhattan, I want the evergreens

Write me a song I can sing in my sleep

As sure as the rain that will fall where you stand

I want you and the skyline, these are my demands

What's it like for you in Washington

I've only seen photos of Washington

I'll never know, know