I don’t want make this
About anybody else
I’m stuck in paranoia
And I need to break its shell
But the polish from my shoe
Is streaked across my face
And you might be a dancer
But I’m not
You tell me you love me
So I lie and say “well, fine”
‘Cause I can’t keep a record
Of the times you make me cry
And there’s nothing I can say
To make it seem okay
So why do I still wanna make you proud?
Why do I still wanna make you proud?
You proud, you proud?