maybe you're a virus.
maybe you really are a bad influence.
i'm thinking about things that never made me.
i'm thinking about acting out and yelling into the wind.
what have you done to me?

i have stories to write. i have potential. but i don't want to show that part of me. it's weird. everything about me is weird.

until then i'll sing into the void where no one can hear the words i hit,
into the cold air that freezes me into a stone cold bitch.