I hate this damn routine
Why can't it be like the silver screen
Painted perfect and air brushed clean
A silouette of what life can be
And everday I sit and think out loud
Of how to get you to come around
It's funny when the cards are tossed out
How things can change and you just don't know how
I've been painted in this light before
But it's seems so much bright behind the door
And I'm depicting life in such a certain way
It's just a magazine cover at the end of the day
I'm too afraid to admit I might be wrong