| Well, I’m just a kid, a girl, a runt
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| And I’m starting to get real sick of
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| Trying to find my voice
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| Surrounded by all boys
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| I’ve been yelling my whole life
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| And finally it’s time
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| To make my words count
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| In a way I haven’t quite figured out
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| I don’t need a man to hold my hand
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| And that’s just something you’ll never understand
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| I don’t need a man to hold my hand
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| And that’s just something you’ll never understand
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| Can you hear me?
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| Can you hear me?
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| What if we never figure it out?
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| And what if I’m always talking too loud?
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| And my stomach hurts
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| (What if we never figure it out?)
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| 'Cause it’s hard to be a punk while wearing a skirt
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| And my stomach hurts
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| (And what if I’m always talking too loud?)
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| 'Cause it’s hard to be a punk while wearing a skirt
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| My stomach hurts
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| (What if we never figure it out?)
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| (Can you hear me?)
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| And it’s hard to be a punk while wearing a skirt
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| My stomach hurts
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| (What if I’m always talking too loud?)
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| (Can you hear me?)
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| It’s hard to be a punk while wearing a skirt
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| My stomach hurts
|
| (What if we never figure it out?)
|
| (Can you hear me?)
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| And it’s hard to be a punk while wearing a skirt
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| My stomach hurts
|
| (What if I’m always talking too loud?)
|
| (Can you hear me?)
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| It’s hard to be a punk while wearing a skirt |