So… I’m like my mother?
The insult’s always slung.
The really, really stupid bit
Is, they don’t even know my mum.

So, I’m like my mother…
It’s not who I choose the be,
And if you really think it,
You don’t know her or me.

And so? I’m like my mother…
You say it to be cruel.
My mother’s not my favourite,
But at least she’s no-one’s fool.





Blank – my mind
Crack – my psyche
Bust – my hopes and dreams
Lock me in a padded room
Emotionally I’m lame.
Trunks of trees
Trunk of me
My heart is built of wood.
What’s the point of breaking out
When everyone’s the same?