I have a smile when i'm walking now Ripped papers and glass on the ground Needles in my legs And my heads filled with sludge Rub my teeth with mud And I have seen faces and figures on the door Faces and figures on the floor I know every story has its holes I know that everybody has goals But words don't understand the meaning of the message It's just the readers mind to figure out the lesson If everyday was a brand new story Why does it always feel like the same? If every day has a new beginning Why does it feel like everyday is the ending? Words don't They don't really affect me I'm beautiful no matter who accepts me Everyone has a sin up in their own sleeves Whats the point in calling them sins if it's what we need?