Running out of breath Chasing down the big parade, rising up my hand, thought I'd beg the marching ban d to play, for me all of these illusions, they really mean the world to 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 space, I'm 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 black and white to me
Don't make me out to be this helpless child of misery, maybe love is what I need but not your sympathy
Nothing and no one can make your lies the truth, and no one can stand inside you r shoes but you
Don't make me out to be this helpless child misery, maybe love is what I need but not your sympathy but not your sympathy
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