Who are you to tell me who I am and who I should be?
No, no, no, you never say it…

But I see it in your eyes and in your sick smile; I see it in your slick movements and the way you speak…

But who are you to tell me my hair should be brown
That my clothes are classy and my teeth are straight?

Who are you to tell me what kind of soulless automaton to be?

I want to play with Zeze the X, in the garden with Phineas, called Finny…

But you capture me in your brown eyes, you capture me and there is not a thing I can do
Because I let you in like I always have.

Who are you to tell me who to be?

And who am I to disobey?