I really like your style girl but I hate the fact that you wild, play this game always ends the same is this how it all goes down?
Troubled past but we drink it all away, wake up next morning to forgetful pain, damn girl told you it all ends the same with that.
Poetic justice, poetic justice.
If I told you that I loved what you do would you trust it?
I mean I write poems in these songs dedicated to the people up all night, lookin for that special person just right.
I found her but that alcohol was too strong, woke up the next morning to things gone wrong.
Now I know that compassion leads to pleasure I can tell.
But I can never right my wrongs unless I write them down for real.