Well there's sand in my book
From writing on the beach
Trying to find a song for you
That the ocean can only reach

And this beach is getting wider
Than my train of thought is long
And each little grain of sand
Is some other asshole poets song

So I?ll try to get this right
Before the sunburn says I'm wrong
Says I'm wrong

I keep on shooting clever guns
That blow up in my face
And what good to say I'm sorry
When time it won't erase

All the times I hit erase
On every word you said to me
And I just covered it up
Like dog shit on a pretty city street

Just to not piss off the neighbors
You know, it's wonder I can't sleep
I can't sleep

A song without a chorus
You know this is my first attempt
'Cause that would really bore us
And the title would go limp

But these words just keep on shooting
Out my pen just like a gun
And I'm aiming at your ears
Trying not to come undone

'Cause you love the smell of gunshots
And the company of one
That's no fun

they'll probably say this sucks
But I don't really care
And I used the gunshot word
So it won't get on the air

While the rappers do a drive by
And smoke crack then praise the Lord
While a white-bread singer songwriter
Has to stand here looking bored

While I'm at it, I should mention
That all the guns I used in my
Songs were fake, not real, plastic
I fuck, get real, blast it, I still love you

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): BUTCH WALKER