Sep

And if we're gonna both be honest with each other then I may as well take the start
I've got a resume of days when I was crazed and all you'd say is that you had no part
But the doctor signed off the chart

Your little game making the playing field the same would have you finally lower the bar
And klonapin and ambien would do me in the day it finally went too far
For some kid with a cheap guitar

Now the mark on your arm... I bet you call it a "Stupid scar"

You got ahead by always filling up your head with all the meds you needed to stand tall
And then in bed you'd hear the voices in your head or see some shadows climbing up the wall
And balled in my arms as you'd bawl

No more marks on the arm... You're somebody else's problem

Some poor sap he's your latest thrill
God you a job and a ring, a house on a hill
A mid-Mid-Westerner in your palm
Tricked him with the tricks you learned from your mom
But the chip on your shoulder ain't goin' nowhere
And every day you're gettin older, but why should you care
'Cause he's the catch of the day, just keep reeling him in
When you throw your bouquet is that how you'll win?
Do you think that you'll win? Can you finally win?

You're somebody else's problem