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We're puzzle pieces that just aren't fitting,
CIA agents waiting to finish our training.
Lost in a world of confusion and not knowing,
not knowing who we are or where we are going.
Trying to live up to who we are supposed to be,
determined to grow up and to be set free.
Striving and struggling to change our ways,

but nothing is ever good enough as they say.
Worried about leaving an impact on those we love,
worried about living up to their standards and rising above.
The pressure to be perfect and to fit into a size zero,
the pressure to stand up for the weaklings and be a hero.
Overwhelming stress having us locked in a trance,
trying to tell the difference between lust and true love romance.
Grasping at our grades as they start to slip,
when everything begins to get better it takes a back flip.
It's us verses them, the world is always against us,
saying they've been through it before, they know what its like to be us.
They say we aren't alone and that they're by our side,
but they always seem to get off at the first stop when it's a bumpy ride.
We want to be known cuz we secretly love the attention,
except we refuse to run for president cuz we are scared to lose the election.
Reading the enquirer and spreading gossip is our guilty pleasure,
reading and hearing about how bad someone else's life is makes ours look better.
We love the bright lights, the flashes, the crowd,
hearing everyone scream your name as you take your final bow.
We want to leave this town where we've been held captive,
they act like they need and care about us but in the end we're always shafted.
We want to start over and refresh who we are,
to pack our bags and leave without notice and move really far.
But we want people to notice we left without a goodbye,
that we left and they never knew the reason why.
And we hope they feel bad that they never took the chance to truly know us,
that they never asked what is wrong and they never asked to help us.
We may have clearly stated we don't want your help,
that we are independent and we don't need anyone else.
But the truth is we want someone to be there,
to sit and listen about our troubles and hurts and we want them to actually care.
We want you to know you can't control us,
you can't take our freedom that rightly belongs to us.
We may act carefree and we may be relentless,
but being reliable is different from being careless.
We are inconsistent about who we are

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