Letras
Anyone else can be whatever they want to be
So, why not I? Shouldn't I have the right
Anyone else can think whatever they want about me
So, why shouldn't I be free to do the same
Everyone likes to say what they will of me
But I'm just here
Singing the same damn old songs that make me cry
And I can't get them right
Doesn't matter how hard I try
It's the thorn in my side
It's the hand on my thigh
It's the sad Portland sky
The same shade that comprised all of the paintings in the basement
Of my siblings and I looking sad and misshapen
That nobody would buy
And I don't wonder why anymore
And I gave my advice
That some color is nice on the eyes
Every now and again