These things I say, I usually don't mean They're usually just a blanket, A blanket I toss over my heart It's doesn't help me feel better, But it helps you So you can believe you're not breaking my heart, Shattering my very existence with words that you probably see as nothing But see I'm too messed up for that to be true Maybe it's the pain of my absent father Maybe it's the pain of feeling alone Maybe it's the pain of not knowing why I'm here Maybe I can't be who you want me to be...