Lyrics:

Three times alone this week

I 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 week

I was made into a liar.

Whether (or not) I found the gold

I never told.

Richer: I brilliant white.

I.

I wear shoes that move men from desert to riches.

Show me what you've got

and scratch it because it itches.

Call me Chameleon

and extingish my fire.

Three times alone this week

I 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 into

a pot of gold,

rejoice in fire

that which soon burns gold.

What did I say to you?

I can't deny

The throat, the love, sincerity,

I can't deny it

'I've got to keep my P.M.A.'