Running out breath Chasing down the big parade, Rising up my hand, Thought I'd beg marching band to play, for me All of these illusions, They really mean the world to me, me
make me out to be this helpless child of misery, Maybe love is what I need But your sympathy
In and out of space, always somewhere in between, I try to make commands But instead I make a mess of things, for me
I try paint by numbers, But nothing's and white to me
Don't make me out to be this helpless of misery, Maybe love is what I need But not your sympathy
Nothing no one can make your lies the truth, and no one can stand inside your shoes you
Don't make me out to be this helpless child misery, Maybe love is what need But not your sympathy But not your sympathy