You can tell from the scars on my arms
And the seams on my skirt
And the dents in my car, and the veins about to burst
That I'm not the carefullest of girls.
You can tell by the glass on the floor and the strings that're breaking
And I keep on breaking more and it looks like I am shaking
But it's just the temperature.
Then again, if it were any colder I could disengage
If I were any older I would act my age
But I don't think that you'd believe me
It's not the way I'm meant to be
It's just the way the operation made me
And you can tell from the state of my room that they let me out too soon
And the pills that I ate came a couple years too late
And ive got some issues to work through
There I go again, pretending to be you
Make-believing that I have a soul beneath the surface
Trying to convince you it was accidentally on purpose
I am not so serious
This passion is a plagiarism
I might join your century but only on a rare occasion
I was taken out before the labor pains set in
And now behold the world's worst accident:
I am the girl anachronism
And you can tell by the red in my eyes and the bruises on my thighs
And the knots in my hair and the bathtub full of flies
That I'm not right now at all
There I go again, pretending that I'll fall
Don't call the doctors
They've seen it all before
They'll say "just let her crash and burn, she'll learn
The attention just encourages her"
And you can tell from the full-body cast that I'm sorry that I asked
Though you did everything you could, like any decent person would
But I might be catching so don't touch
You'll start believing you're immune to gravity and stuff
Don't get me wet because the bandages will all come off
And you can tell from the smoke at the stake that the current state is critical
Well, it is the little things, for instance:
In the time it takes to break it she can make up ten excuses
"Please excuse her for the day, its just the way the medication makes her"
I don't necessarily believe there is a cure for this
So I might join your century, but only as a doubtful guest
I was too precarious, removed as a caesarian
Now behold the world's worst accident:
I am the girl anachronism! |
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