I am a flighty, preachy girl,
doesn't mean I don't know a thing or three.
If you think you've owned me with hurled words,
labels are sticky and I'm allergic to most glue.

You'd feel the same sting
if you were told who you are.
In fact I'm sure you're afraid anyway,
that I'll pass judgement on you too.

Let's have a talk with substance,
just you and I alone.
Your ego must be frightened
by my will to bare my truth.

And if you don't feel like talking,
I'll fire up the blow torch
and teach you how to dance
There's no stance I could think of,
that would leave a mark on you.