If I washed my clothes and I combed my hair
would you look at me the same?
All this time I believed I had lost control,
but this doesn't have a name.
If I swim down the middle and I worked real hard
could I learn to shut you out?
People told us we were crazy and maybe they were right,
but that's not what this is about.
Because I've never lived without it
never needed it so bad.
That they'd sell out their whole family for a taste.
Because she treated you so fancy
before she treated you so mean.
But she made a good companion either way.
Either way.
Sitting in the snow while we traced our tracks,
but we can't go back again.
I'm not your mother and you're not a child.
Honey, we weren't even friends.
You were born into an ocean; I grew up in a swimming pool
underneath the band-aid colored pain.
I had barely learned to hold you; I had barely spoke your name
when I began to love you without shame.
But I'll learn to live without it, never loved it anyway.
And I'll ride my plastic pony to the sun.
But they're closing down the party, and they're bringing heavy chains,
but we'll learn to love our freedom from a cage.