Sweaty skin, but my hands are so cold
it ain't a storm still the rain won't stop to fall
dripping from my face to my fingers, down to the floor
Leaving a small puddle of pain graved in wood
it's hard to be the way I am
someone who loves me wouldn't stay
I should change my whole being because
They don't like what I say, what I think
Hate that I can't be the same
The same as that girl on the street
Or the daughter who eats like a sin
They call me them names out of love
But don't realize how it's so rough
To know all they see is a kid
who isn't perfect as they expected it
