What do you want?

Oh fuckity, fuck, fuck, I hear
what they say about me.
I don't fit into their societal norm,
what do you expect me to do?
Kiss their shiny arse and their bleached
blonde hair and expect them to like me?
I don't really care; I have a
IQ much higher than them, and I actually
know that the world is turning.

Oh fuckity, fuck, fuck, I know
what you think about me.
You always look at me as if I were
imperfect, a shatter little china doll.
What do you expect of me?
I'm not some perfect little girl,
I hate pink and I hate
your damn expectations of what I should be.
There's a lot more I have to deal
with for me to sit hear patiently
and listen to all of your crap.
Write it on a post-it and
give it to me tomorrow when I'm awake.

Oh fuckity, fuck, fuck, I know
what you are thinking about.
I'm not willing to spread my legs open,
so you think you'd break up with me?
Good riddance, I say, to a bad zit,
since the size of your ego was so much
bigger than your dick.
I'm not some object to sit there and look
pretty, so don't expect me to not bite back.
Too bad your brains didn't match your looks;
your loss, not mine, since you have to live with you.

Oh fuckity, fuck, fuck, I know
too well what the world wants from me.
It expects me to act a certain way, to
dress a certain way, to be another statistic
of their census of normality.
But I say, screw them.
You only get to live so long, so like
I'm gonna listen to you.
I fly by the seat of my pants, and I
go alone on my boulevard of shattered illusions.
Don't expect me to hitch a ride;
I make my own from scratch.
I will always stand my ground, with
my own theory of sanity.
So you can just fuck off.