Rolling up the windows of my '96 Buick So the rain can't get inside of it I have more dreams than you have posters of your favorite teams You'll never talk me out of this
It takes more than I got to hold my tongue You shot me with a wooden gun And though the shot won't kill me it still bruises skin That you don't believe in what your mouth runs
Get your cannons ready, light the wick It will take more than an argument to change my mind So why keep trying? Keep trying, and you will never talk me out of it
