Taking No Part In This Amature Act
Oh how I know you,
All you're secrets, and your shames,
your immaturity, and how you stretch the rules to those
games

I respect you; don't get me wrong,
Your the lead singer and I'm the back-up to your songs,
I echo you, so you're always first,
Your luck isn't karma, as for it's a curse

I have no jealously of your looks or your personality,
I feel for you; of your foolishness and your lack of
reality.
I take no part in you amature ways,
If I had to be with you and the shining sun...
I would rather be alone in ten rainy days

I must sound rude, and full of hate,
For once, you might be right. That, I'll take.
We rarely get along..I'll echo that,
It's the end of the song. I'm up to bat.

It's my turn to be echoed.
To be center-stage, and my voice is welcome.
I can feel your presence; cold and weak.
Without your friends, you can barely stand on your own two
feet
I almost care. I almost do.
But there's something different, different about you.
You're so good at acting, it should be your career,
But success is reality, and that's your fear

One day you'll grow up. I promise you that.
Maybe you'll turn your fakeness into more than an act
I wish you luck.
Hurry, take your bow.
Your time is up.
It's my turn now.