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i never wanted to be better than my friends |
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i just wanted to prove wrong the people in my head |
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the ones who told me i'd be better off dead |
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the ones who told me that i would never win |
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when i delivered newspapers they said i was too slow |
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when i was a barista they said i made lousy foam |
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when i worked in retail they said i was a slob |
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much too dumb for school and much too lazy for a job |
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so i rode my bike like lightning |
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and i made cappucinos that would make the angels sing |
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took two showers a day and i dressed up like a princess |
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shook my fist in my own face and said "i'll show you who's the best" |
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i wrote the kinds of papers teachers hang up on their walls |
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i was employee of the month in seven different shopping malls |
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and one time, playing football, i pulled the tendons in my leg |
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to prove that i was tough i hopped on one foot |
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and finished up the game |
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i thought if i succeeded i'd be happy and they'd go away |
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but first thing every morning i'd still wake up and i'd hear them say |
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"you're fat, ugly and stupid, you should really be ashamed |
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no-one will ever like you, you're no good at anything" |
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and sometimes i'd rise to the challenge |
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but other times i'd feel so bad that i could not get out of bed |
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and on the days i stayed in bed i sang and sang and sang |
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about how crappy i felt, not realising how many other people would relate |
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now people send me emails that say thanks |
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for saying the things they didn't know how to say |
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and the people in my head still visit me sometimes |
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and they bring all of their friends, but i don't mind |
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i play my guitar like lightning |
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when i sing i like it when you sing too, loud and clear |
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different voices, different tones, all saying "yeah, we're not alone" |
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i got good at feeling bad and that's why i'm still here |
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i got good at feeling bad and that's why i'm still here |
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i got good at feeling bad and that's why i'm still here |
