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