Running out of breath Chasing down the big parade, Rising up my hand, I'd beg marching band to play, for me All of these illusions, They really mean the world me, me
Don't make me out to be this helpless child of misery, Maybe love is what I need But not your sympathy
In and out of I'm somewhere in between, I try to make commands But instead I make a mess of things, for me
I try paint numbers, But nothing's black and white to me
Don't make me out to be 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 shoes but you
Don't me out to be this helpless child misery, Maybe love is what need But not your sympathy But not your sympathy