I'm fourteen
And I don't live within a dream
I aspire to become whatever's real
Fantasy, has just lost it's appeal
And none of us will ever be a big deal.
Music is my way to stay sane
And everyday it's the same
Loud opinions and nonexisting brains
And they never have a thing to gain.
I dislike crowds
So much, that I won't say a thing a thing outloud
I'd arther not compete with the clutter
Especially because I tend to stutter.
I'll never accepy pity
You can very well save your sympthy
Put it to use, and join a charity .
I'm fourteen
And I dare not dream.
