I am not the type of girl a prince would fall for
I do not laugh quietly or sit still
I roughhouse and talk much too loud
And all remind me, "It is your chances that you kill."
My chances at what?
Finding a "love" that wants me tame?
Docile in a way that leaves me hollow
I would have far too many to blame.
Anger and excitement that burn so deeply
A love so loud—it knows no bounds
So, tell me, why would I want someone already holding the chains
to tie me to the ground?
I will pass on the binds you say are for my own good
I will not search for a love to keep me silent
Let someone approach who can handle the mess..
Someone who can love me through my own violence.
