I know I cant say that I'm perfect,
the person inside me does understand,
She toils in your world trying to fit in,
looking up reaching for a hand.
I know you have your own issues,
trust me I buy the magazine,
and you think worry is for those with vurtue,
that doesnt mean a damn thing to me,
So hold your head above your shoulders,
try to keep a different point of view,
Because im not fitted for your lime light,
and I thought that you might have had a clue.
See I dance to my own rythym,
and color is a part of my soul,
I feel the choir of a thousand voices singing,
and that part of me you cant make me let go.
