I had a plan at 10 years old, to try my best,
do as I'm told but that don't catch the
pretty people's eye. I didn't have the coolest hair,
the newest clothes or the richest parents so
I sat alone as the pretty girls walked by.
I tried my best at making jokes only to trip
over my words and choke so I ran back home
and stayed inside my room.
I swore I'd never go back alive,
"shallow talk breeds shallow minds", but that was
just a jealous boys' excuse.
'Cause everybody's dancing and I don't feel
the same,
this room is full of people who barely know
my name.
And I don't feel like dancing on my own
again, another year without a friend,
another year where I just close my eyes and
dance inside my head.
With age comes insecurity, embarrassment
and tragedy, increasing fear of growing old
lonely. I said I'd put on my dancing shoes but
I've got two left feet and no good moves and
the pretty girls found cooler kids than me.
So I sat and waited patiently until the day
I'd finally be asked, but it never came, no it
never came.
I found it hard to take some time out of the
days that I spent wishing I could be, anyone
but me.
