| We force ourselves to ignore our own potential
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| That lives under our skin
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| It’s okay to feel this way
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| Please stop romanticizing the grave
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| I know it’s hard
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| It’s never been easy for anyone around you
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| But it’s out of our hands, and nobody tries to understand
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| Seven years, going on eight
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| That I’ve felt the weight of standards
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| False preconceived understanding of my identity
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| Now I’m stuck in a lie that I told myself for my whole life
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| «Your hair is too long, your clothes are too tight.»
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| God I need, I need something
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| Can you promise me
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| That if Hell comes for me
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| You’ll tell that boy he’s the one for me?
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| Cause he’s the closest thing to heaven that I’ll see
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| We force ourselves to ignore internal beauty
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| That dwells under our skin
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| It’s okay to feel this way
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| Please stop romanticizing the grave
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| I know it’s hard not being loved for who you truly are
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| Don’t expect them to understand
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| If you don’t want to be a man
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| Trickle from my skin, I’m caving
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| (Be a man, Be a man, Man up, Man up, Be a man)
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| Can’t feel a thing, I’m escaping
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| (Be a man, Be a man, Man up, Man up, Be a man)
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| Some may say that you’ve lost your way
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| As if it was a choice, not to be straight
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| Trickle from my skin, I’m escaping
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| Cutting off my hair, I’m caving
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| Someone go and tell that boy
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| That I’m sorry for what I’ve done
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| Afraid of my own feelings
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| When I knew that it was love
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| Miserable, terrified, I crossed out all of my exes
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| Straight, white, and privileged
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| But still something was missing |