Hate feeling like wherever I go
The sting of paranoia that sings
There’s someone looking at me
(It’s been the) Same
As far as I can recall
Pretend I couldn’t hear you almost every time you say my name
Pulled under the knife
Could you cut it outta me
Made to advertise
Make something pretty
Cored and cut to height
Something you would like to see
Beautiful and nice
Broadly appealing
The cancer spreads through the body
Til there’s nothing left
Spite and idealism
Pulled under the knife
Could you cut it outta me
Beautiful and made for all to see
Is it a calling card
To not like who you are
Is it a passing phase
To always hide away
I didn’t expect I’d done something wrong
Like I failed to socialize a dog
I’m not what you want at all
Ten cord cut out of pine wood
Collapse with the weather
Is it a calling card
Distinct and set apart
To hate who you have been
Is it a certain age
When you start going grey
And so you’re set in your ways
I can’t be what you want
I never fit the description or collar, the pace
There’s something wrong with me
Some poison swims through my system and leaves me ashamed
Collapse with the weather
Pulled under the knife
You can’t cut it outta me
Fail to recognize
There’s no sense in trying
Hollowed out inside
Looking for something you need
Close and call the time
Look close and watch how the
Cancer spreads
Through the body
Til there’s nothing left
Fear and pessimism
Pulled under the knife
I could never be
Beautiful and made for all to see
