I'm Not A Control Freak.

Be Kind To Me, Or Treat Me Mean I'll Make The Most Of It, I'm An Extraordinary Machine

My Mind Goes To Tragedy First.

I Wanted To Write A Happy Song. I Didn't Know How.

I Got Into Therapy In The Fifth Grade Because I Said In A Sarcastic Way That I Was Going To Kill Myself, And They Didn't Get It Then. Nothing's Changed.

My Scars Were Reflecting The Mist In Your Headlights I Looked Like A Neon Zebra, Shaking Rain Off Her Stripes