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