| She’s nothing like a child
|
| She has no hobbies
|
| And her friends are all the same
|
| She knows a girl that can play the piano
|
| And she’s kind of weird
|
| Her smile is born in the mirror in the bathroom
|
| And her moves are made up by the way they make her body look
|
| She reads the magazines that says how to be thinner
|
| And how to feel great about herself
|
| She doesn’t read the newspapers
|
| She can’t relate to anything
|
| And the wars in the Middle East is just too heavy
|
| She used to dance and whistle in the streets
|
| She rolls her eyes at people dancing, whistling in the streets
|
| She’s nothing like a child
|
| She’s nothing like a child
|
| She’s nothing like a child
|
| Now she’s gone
|
| She’s nothing like a child
|
| Not driven by her will
|
| Driven by the others and addictions
|
| She’d like to seem like she’s flawless and free
|
| When she’s in captivity
|
| She used to swim and play games with the waves
|
| But now her summer-body's function
|
| Is to lie down to get some tan
|
| She used to talk to people she didn’t know
|
| People talking to strangers are creepy and weird
|
| Her life-companion is always with her
|
| In her hand, she stares at it, as she’s addicted
|
| She used to dance and whistle in the streets
|
| She rolls her eyes at people dancing, whistling in the streets
|
| She’s nothing like a child
|
| She’s nothing like a child
|
| She’s nothing like a child
|
| Now she’s gone |