Working Titles

You could mess up my life in a poem
Have me divorced by the time of the chorus
There’s no need to change any sentence
When you always decide where I go next
Many nights you would hide from the audience
When they were not in tune with your progress
In the end you’re a fool like the journalist
Who turns what you sing into business
You could use to be more like a hero
A darker shade of damage distortion
Wearing death like a cape or a costume
Cut your ties and leave town when you want to Killing time 'til I pass through the chamber
Or the room you keep my replacement
so fed up, still you’re starving on paper
You’re no him, but he’s you, only better
Leave me an exit to damage
I could use a ledge to jump off of I wasn’t lying when I said this was over
I have questions that lead to more questions
Running time that will cut off my fingers
You wrote about me on every new record
And I’ll show up in a title of your song
I only hope somebody requests it What’s it like for you in Washington
I’ve only seen photos of Washington
I’ll never know
Leave me Manhattan, I want the evergreens
Write me a song I can sing in my sleep
As sure as the rain that will fall where you stand
I want you and the skyline, these are my demands
What’s it like for you in Washington
I’ve only seen photos of Washington
I’ll never know, know