I won't wish for kidsnCuz I will break like glass nAnd I wish I'd win to 6099 chartsnI can find diamonds on a SaturdaynIn a pot hole or down the backstreets of Los Angeles nnAnd my stomach aches with jokes and jealousynAnd I wake at threenI wish you were next to menAnd it multipliesnAnd I've seen six yearsnOf these time bombs and let-it-go fearsnnIt's my sinnI'm into himnI am into himnIf I knew I was sinning it would happen againnIt's happening againnnAre you a poet toonOr someone who wants it through?nWe'll take me down and down and down into a sweet rosennOh the fall in St Augustine nThree days once a year of green nI pass the fruit standsnAnd idle carsnI can find diamonds on a SaturdaynIn a pot hole or down the backstreets of Los Angeles nnIt's my sinnI'm into himnI am into himnIf I knew I was sinning it would happen againnIt's happening again