People choose the things they see
People tell me they love me
I ask them why
They tell me i'm pretty
And they like the way i smile
They tell me they think that i'm kind
They tell me that they care
Those people aren't in love with me
They are in love with the girl who smiles at them, who buys them cigarettes and who pretends to be happy. No one would be in love with the crazy, sullen bitch. And that's the truth.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.