why every time when something hurts someone
  always comes up and wants to make it worse?
  i'll never make the cover of a rolling stone,
  but at least i know my life's my own
  on my back porch what it will mean.
  on my notes tell me what they'll mean.
  splitting up the difference between one and two
  doesn't make a difference between me and you
  what the signs they say the trucks are weaving back
  and forth on any day but sunday at four o' clock
  and the meter's running too late
  now put your quarter in and you know you won't be found.
  i know inside that your're afraid of me
  i've become all the things
  that i said i would be something more
  than rehearsed the pain i feel contained,
  i look in the mirror and i saw someone else.