The Artist
Oh poor old me I said I would not do this to myself again
Oh poor old me I said I would not do this to myself again
But I been' told that winter's are not cold
If someone's there to light the flame until it turns to coal
Well I admit there's something wrong with me
I take the hit and then ask him why won't you let me be?
I said I'm through of living with you
You better run for your life before I break you in two
Oh poor old me I said I would not do this to my friends again
Oh poor old me I said I would not do this to my friends again
But I been' told that writers are not bold
Until you tell them that their poetry is made of gold
Well I admit there's something wrong with me
I can't get through a novel without falling half asleep
I said I'm through with living with you
You better hide your books before I tear them all in two
Well I been' told that singers get real cold
Until you tell them that the spotlight's made for them alone
Well I admit there's something wrong with it
I'll bite the bullet so it doesn't shoot me in the head
Well I admit there's something wrong with me
I take the hit and then ask him why won't you let me be?
I said I'm through of living with you
You better run for your life before...
Oh poor old me I said I would not do this to myself again
But I been' told that winter's are not cold
If someone's there to light the flame until it turns to coal
Well I admit there's something wrong with me
I take the hit and then ask him why won't you let me be?
I said I'm through of living with you
You better run for your life before I break you in two
Oh poor old me I said I would not do this to my friends again
Oh poor old me I said I would not do this to my friends again
But I been' told that writers are not bold
Until you tell them that their poetry is made of gold
Well I admit there's something wrong with me
I can't get through a novel without falling half asleep
I said I'm through with living with you
You better hide your books before I tear them all in two
Well I been' told that singers get real cold
Until you tell them that the spotlight's made for them alone
Well I admit there's something wrong with it
I'll bite the bullet so it doesn't shoot me in the head
Well I admit there's something wrong with me
I take the hit and then ask him why won't you let me be?
I said I'm through of living with you
You better run for your life before...
Credits
Writer(s): Louise Claire Burns
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
Other Album Tracks
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.