A sour look
A blue rose on a red dress
Coded words, half-truths and lies
Your private book
Speaks of broken dreams and excess
Things you don't say reflect in your eyes.

The things you do say you don't mean
It's like a fifth wheel on a streak
You are not what you appear
But I don't see any transforming here
Do you?

My verse is common
I ain't got no flair
You'd see me fall flat on my face
Before I could climb a single stair

The look becomes sweet
And the dress comes off
Your book isn't so
Private anymore
Dirty whore

Not only your dreams are broken
You've got a case of the
Poet blues tokin
Your life is a half truth
And no I'm not calling zombie on this one

My verse is common
I ain't got no flair
You'd see me fall flat on my face
Before I could climb a single stair

My verse is common
I ain't got no flair
You'd see me fall flat on my face
Before I could climb a single stair

You're as bad as a guy
Who watches people change through a telescope
On his 35th floor apartment building balcony
After all how do you think he knew
What color your dress was?