They always talk about it like we're
talking and smiling and shit
when I'm sitting here like an idiot
holding your hand and pretending
that I'm not silently begging
that you never let go.
For the first time I'm part of something,
and I understand the little annoying
things everyone says, and
the fact that nothing's really
all that different.
(Oh, I wanna change, baby, you
can't see it in my eyes?)
And how was I the one who
snagged what everyone was looking for?
'Cause I can see it when someone
looks at you like—like that,
and I assure you my stupid eyes
aren't enough to get you to
touch me like we're not awkward