They think they can change me.
They think they can fix me.
Want to throw away my soul; and start fresh with a new one.
They know I have potential.
They know they can succeed.
But do they know if they look a little bit closer, that I bleed?
There words leave scars.
Bruises on my arms.
What they can't see won't hurt them, but where does that leave me?
They want to show me life, give me color.
Try to set me free.
But as I rise up, I think it's clear now.
They know I can't be altered.
"THIS KIND OF FIRE; THEY CAN'T GIVE TO ME"
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