Sometimes I want to float out my bedroom window;
Past the unkept yellow bungalow,
Past the fir trees and the winter carcasses of rose bushes,
Past all the street lamps and their glow.
It's time to go.
I feel tired and torn and the soles of my shoes are worn.

I may be young
Compared to some
Its true
But I dont feel that way when I talk to you

Ive known very little
And in my thoughts I fettle
Trying to make sense of what I have known
considering the meaning of everything ive been shown

The good, bad, and in between
Seems theres been to much in between for me to believe
That the good really exists
I kind of think maybe its gone extinct

But dont listen to me
Im a bit of a hypocrite, you see
So dont take my words to heart
And I can tell wont because you're far too smart
To belive someone who only plays a part
in her life that seems to have become a lousy show
Not even a good one.. Well I quit. These lines, this play, this scene I will throw
And the girl you thought you knew will be no more