Lyrics:
Three times alone this weekI was suppose to be a rock star.'I only beat you when I'm drunk,You're only pretty when you're crying.'We are suppose to be the ones to set the air afire.Three times alone this weekI was made into a liar.Whether (or not) I found the goldI never told.Richer: I brilliant white.I.I wear shoes that move men from desert to riches.Show me what you've gotand scratch it because it itches.Call me Chameleonand extingish my fire.Three times alone this weekI was suppose to be a liar.Maybe not.Why the stare?Would I lie about that which I am scared?What did I say to you?Step intoa pot of gold,rejoice in firethat which soon burns gold.What did I say to you?I can't denyThe throat, the love, sincerity,I can't deny it'I've got to keep my P.M.A.'