Backseat Driver
I've been looking for someone that I can trust
I've been beaten in the dust
I can't I won't I shan't I come to close to giving up
Any minute is enough
Is it love or lust or just another game to mess it up
And I'm feeling like a back seat driver
Russian roulette Where's the revolver
How could my own life be that of another
I am I my own or am I my brother
Wishing I could take off the cover
Show you my intentions without the bother
Of all the judgments pinning me down
I could throw away the crown
Forget about the emotions stirring the crowd
I've been looking for someone that I can trust
I've been beaten in the dust
I can't I won't I shan't I come to close to giving up
Any minute is enough
Is it love or lust or just another game to mess it up
Feeling low
Take it slow
Let it show
I'm knocking it like the dominoes
Poetry flow
It's a metaphor
Yo
Does it blow
When I talk like
Edgar Alan Poe
Representation of little crows
It's old
But I can't skim over the bold
Why are museums so full of art
But the Picasso just sells the show
It's cause the genius outlives any trends that are in at the minute
I get it the people hype music but after it's finished the question is
Who are you and what have you finished
It's fine not everyone can be legends
When they write their names in stone
Some people exist to live and to die
Dry bones to remain unknown
But as for I
I will struggle to be original till the day I die
Whether the audience recognizes me or it takes a different eye
I will reside by and by
Doing me like a battle cry
Even if it means social suicide
I've been the same me since junior high
I've been looking for someone that I can trust
I've been beaten in the dust
I can't I won't I shan't I come to close to giving up
Any minute is enough
Is it love or lust or just another game to mess it up
I've been beaten in the dust
I can't I won't I shan't I come to close to giving up
Any minute is enough
Is it love or lust or just another game to mess it up
And I'm feeling like a back seat driver
Russian roulette Where's the revolver
How could my own life be that of another
I am I my own or am I my brother
Wishing I could take off the cover
Show you my intentions without the bother
Of all the judgments pinning me down
I could throw away the crown
Forget about the emotions stirring the crowd
I've been looking for someone that I can trust
I've been beaten in the dust
I can't I won't I shan't I come to close to giving up
Any minute is enough
Is it love or lust or just another game to mess it up
Feeling low
Take it slow
Let it show
I'm knocking it like the dominoes
Poetry flow
It's a metaphor
Yo
Does it blow
When I talk like
Edgar Alan Poe
Representation of little crows
It's old
But I can't skim over the bold
Why are museums so full of art
But the Picasso just sells the show
It's cause the genius outlives any trends that are in at the minute
I get it the people hype music but after it's finished the question is
Who are you and what have you finished
It's fine not everyone can be legends
When they write their names in stone
Some people exist to live and to die
Dry bones to remain unknown
But as for I
I will struggle to be original till the day I die
Whether the audience recognizes me or it takes a different eye
I will reside by and by
Doing me like a battle cry
Even if it means social suicide
I've been the same me since junior high
I've been looking for someone that I can trust
I've been beaten in the dust
I can't I won't I shan't I come to close to giving up
Any minute is enough
Is it love or lust or just another game to mess it up
Credits
Writer(s): Aaron Green, Daniel Castady, Mark Rhoades, Keith Mochel
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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