What is wrong with the real me?
No one understands: I need to be free.
No one to control, yet someone to care;
I need independence, but someone who’s there.
Can’t you see this is what I need?
Someone to follow, and no one to lead.
I need to make my own mistakes;
and fix them up, as long as it takes.
When I adventure alone in a dream,
the feeling is great; everlasting it seems.
Then I awake to bitter reality:
No one cares about the real me.
They say they care, but it’s just a facade.
The outside world is normal–and I am an inside odd.
I need to fly, I need to soar,
I need to cry, and fear no more.
I need to be happy, I need people to see:
I need to be loved. I need to be me.