You pretend to know me
when you know nothing but my name.
You call me things that I am not-
to you it's all a game.
By labeling me you've proven
you're what labeling's all about:
A book of lies and jealous tales,
written with self-doubt.
Deep down you fear the single thing
you scoff at every day.
The way we feel, the way we act,
the very things we say.
What is it that makes you think
that you have an effect on me?
I honestly couldn't care less
WHAT you pretend to see.
So go ahead and label me,
with your incriminating lies.
For I know that in the end,
it's not up to you to decide.
And many years from now,
when I've chased down all my dreams,
maybe then you'll finally see
that things are not what they may seem.