I don't like today's music
I think it's all the same
Everyone's being a follower
To have a shot at fame
I dress a little differently
Than most kids in my generation  
I like to look classy
I don't share the same grunge infatuation
I don't read Seventeen
Or Teen Vogue for that matter
Because honestly I don't care
What celebrity is getting fatter
I listen to show tunes
And practice my singing voice
Cause my mom taught me early on
That I have a choice
You can be whatever you want
And whoever you want, too
Don't let societies regulations
Try and define you
Be different, unique
Be your own work of art
Your decisions shouldn't be based on popularity
They should come from your heart.

Turning into an adult is somewhat reminiscent of the plague
I tried my best to stop the virus from spreading
I held onto my childhood like my life line
I desperately protected and nursed the flickering ember of youth in my soul
But even with such careful and tentative behavior
I found myself sipping on a dark roasted brew
Letting acidic bitterness of coffee burn my throat
And planning for college, my future
Planning out ways to achieve my goals
And making rational decisions like no child ever would
And as I stare at the purple hues that look like a dark watercolor painting under my eyes
I realize that I've caught the plague
This horrid plague of adulthood
I grew up too quickly
Far before any of my peers
And maybe it's because I fought it so hard that it took hold of me and infected me so mercilessly
But regardless of how or why it happened the way that it did, I am here now, exhausted and defeated, staring my fears in the face.

You tied me to the end of a red ribbon. You're happily pulling me along behind. I'm being pulled through the dirt and scraping and bruising myself on the ground. But when I cry, you don't even turn around. I have no scissors to cut myself free. So you run along, dragging me. I'm stuck to the end of your red ribbon. Don't forget that as you string me along. I'm a human with feelings and I'm bruised and battered and hurt. I've begged to be let free but it's like you can't even hear me. How long will you string me along?

You won't care until I'm dying

I have a hole in the crook of my arm where they drained me of my blood
They're wondering just what exactly is wrong with me

This may sound morbid
But I know that unless I'm dying
                             You won't care

So my body is killing itself
Because it's just as tired as I am of you not caring.

Found another victim but no one's gonna find Miss Jackson
Do you get a little thrill out of breaking hearts?
Using the pieces to create your sinful work of art.
Out the back door, *******, but I love her anyway.
Try to wrap the world around your finger with your magic
But your crown's falling and you look quite tragic
You put a sour little flavor in my mouth now*
You need someone to lift you back up
But ones who once loved you are now fed up
*Back away from the water, babe, you might drown

X

I have an unhealthy distaste for spring
All the feelings it seems to bring
Every year I feel the same again
I watch flowers bloom with disdain
Spring fever poisons the minds of others
But I hide from this disease under the covers
I long for winter and fall
Spring makes me feel so small
In the warmer months I grow old
Maybe that's why I yearn for the cold
Every year I bid winter adieu  
And wait for her to return anew
I wish I could follow her wherever she wanders
Maybe my spring times wouldn't be so somber