I've allowed mud drenched tennis shoes to step on my fingers
And FDA approved thoughts paint over mine
Going along with the idea that this is better
but once again, I'm wrong

On a scale from 1-10 I don’t believe this is happening  
You can't put your hands in my pockets and control my direction
You can't take love away until its mixed feelings
What kind of love is that?

I said you can't change me into your perfect daughter
You can't make my feet follow your footsteps
You can't live in fear that ill find more peace in talking to razors than to you
Apparently your doing something wrong

I rather fry my brain cells
Than you pick at them trying to change their makeup
I rather burn holes in my lungs
Than have your negative comments each at my heart

Shouldn't you know from past experiences that kids will be kids?
Stop wasting your anxiety and my depression on this
Give me back my happiness rather than trying to conjure up me a new one