martes, 18 de septiembre de 2012

Give them something to talk about.

A smile on your face, a knife in your hand.
Singing song you memorised with whatever talent money buys.
I walk in here with the words I wrote down on a page when I was twelve years old and a small town raised.
I breathe smoke and cheap perfume.
Oh, but the easy ride was never my ambition.
Let's talk about your childhood days, you were the prom queen.
It's me and you and the same damn games.
What do you got that I ain't?
What do you do that I can't?
Let's put mee and you in an empty room and see who wins.
Let's talk about what you did to get here.
Let's talk about blood, and sweat, and tears.
Let's talk about what you wanna be and who I've always been.

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