You're clinging to the future,
Though the past has let you down.
So many wounds to suture,
Still, you wear your thorny crown.
I really don't know why to you
I say the things I say.
Same is true of the things I do
That hurt you every day.
You tell me you're no beauty queen.
You say I must be blind.
You'd rather somethings go unseen
And hope that I don't mind.