Here we are again, the exact same place. You don't know what to do, either deny or embrace.
Once again you've given in to that which you're not certain, you cover your false bravery with a shame filled curtain.
The bones inside you rattle and clench, you take a dive into the bottomless trench.
Unknowing if you'll come out, unknowing if you'll crash. The consequences of your decisions ever so rash.
Controlled by others, pressured by all. You're nothing more then a simple wind-up doll.
You look as they want you to, you act as they wish. Whatever they want, be on your dish.
Your different year by year by the crowds that change. But you're still not you, you're what they rearrange.
The fake smile, the fake laugh, all to fit in... into what you don't want just to claim that you win...
the game that is high school, the mosh pit that is the halls, and when it comes down to it, we're all simple wind-up dolls.