Non chiedetemi il perché di tutto ciò (né il suo titolo, perché ancora non ne ha uno), ma è stato scritto alle due di notte, quando si è troppo poco lucidi per poter mentire a se stessi.
She's a stupid girl in love with herself
always trying to be cool, always trying to impress
cuts the split ends away from her mid-length hair
as if she had the time to care about things like that.
"Me, me, me", she can't think but of herself
makes a song and dance out of the small problems she has
she's ungrateful to each one who dares loving her
she doesn't deserve any of you people out there.
She has no integrity, nothing to believe in,
no true feelings, no sincerity,
she threw away the trust of all the people around her
hoping to achieve some more popularity.
You say she's smart, but trust me, she's not at all
she's breaking down again for things she cannot control
complaining 'bout her life, about mistakes she made,
crying, dying, for she can't accept reality
The lines are over, the page's filled up with all the truth
The night gets shorter, but I still sit here, I can't sleep
And as I critically stare at my reflection in the mirror,
I would break it willingly, 'cause that girl is me.