Playing roles like tracks,
All fine, as long as you know who's got your
Baby girl, grown women, don't sweat the mosquito's:
Your farmer boyfriend just wants to run with the herd because he wants to be heard and you won't give him anymore milk.
I don't know who I'm talking to: the room won't sit still,
And after an hour and 45 minutes, your faces all look the same.
I get so confused by the words, the noise, the faces,
I just want to curl up and be born again in the spaces--or better yet,
become the space for someone else.
Because I'm just a cog in the machine of the Monster-Maker factory, and I never know what to do or how to be, so maybe I'll just let someone else become.
It may all be the same script, but we all got different parts to play.
Maybe if mine's not The Liberator, it can at least be the Mother of One.