The hands of time seem to be speeding up my downfall
and I can't outrun the clock anymore.
These words I speak to you are frivolous and vacuous in your mind
and it seems to be thinking of ways
that you can break me down.
I will not be my father,
brought down by the circumstance in which I stand.
I will not be my mother,
letting anyone at all get under my skin and plant themselves in it.
I will not let your words grasp around my neck
and choke away any words I wish to say to you.
I have a voice, and it will be heard.

I will not be backlash for your insecurities
I will not feel bad for being me
I've spent my whole life wondering who I am
and I've found the person I have become.
I will not succumb to your paranoia and change me.
Inconsistency for me is an everyday thing
and frankly I'm tired of guessing-
waiting around each corner for a surprise attack.

This is not who I have been,
this is not who I want to be.
I should not have to sacrifice myself
just so you can be your idea of happy.