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Poets Of The Fall Don't mess with me
Sometimes I know thereīs nothing to say.
So do I pick up my puzzle and just walk away?
Do I follow my conscience?
Am I mock sincere?
I donīt know what Iīm doing here.

I have a knack for perceiving things.
I can see how it sounds.
I can feel how it sings.
When you paint me an image of who you are,
I know itīs the best by far.

So,
Donīt, donīt, donīt mess my hair, if all you do is fake it.
Donīt, donīt, donīt say you care, cos I could never shake it.
Donīt, donīt, donīt mess with me.
Donīt, donīt, donīt mess with me.

No point of view is enough to quell,
the rigors of passion in this world I dwell.
If Iīm going to scale the highest wall,
Iīm gonna give it my all.

Riding along with this train of thought,
I see everything, I find all I sought.
And I try to kick the habit of trying to reach.
But thereīs something I do beseech.

So please,
Donīt, donīt, donīt mess my hair, if all you do is fake it.
Donīt, donīt, donīt say you care, cos I could never shake it.
Donīt, donīt, donīt mess with me.
Donīt, donīt, donīt mess with me.

Iīll say itīs not surprising.
Youīre sweet talking, mesmerizing, juicy and appetizing.
True.
But will I need to get over you?

Feels like my sun is rising.
Tick, tick, tick, synchronizing, readjusting, organizing me.
Is this fiction reality?

Bless the uncompromising
with no shame for advertising
when my needs go through downsizing
I need someone to pick up my beat.

My dreams need realizing.
Candles on sugar icing.
Judgment and harmonizing,
or itīll end up like before.

Donīt, donīt, donīt mess my hair, if all you do is fake it.
Donīt, donīt, donīt say you care, cos I could never shake it.
Donīt, donīt, donīt mess with me.
Donīt, donīt, donīt mess with me.