She moved like the pouring rain
I may not see her again
But ain’t these stories all the same?
This game is so lame
Like an anvil on my brain
Weighing down this train
Again
But this time I won’t forget her name
Chasing fame is how your wings turn to flames
She says she wants to sore
And that less is more
She leaves but she don’t say a word
But she’s fine, or so I’ve heard
All I wanna know are the magic words
To catch this bird
I am solidified by what she’d sow
I am castracized by the games she played
I was mortified by the lengths she’d go
And now I'm ostracised by what I know
But I'm live where she’s concerned
But I don’t mind, ‘cause I’ve been burned
What tables do I have to turn
To catch this bird?
