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WANNABE
By Kim Davidson
© 2010

I could point fingers in any direction, but blame comes back like a boomerang
I could flip through and rewrite my life's history, but I doubt that time's improved my aim
I could name my frustrations like cats, like the children that I'll never have
I could die today
And my epitaph would read this way:

CHORUS: Here lies the girl with the stars in her hair, who bit off more than she could chew
Here lies the poor excuse for a fighter, who never quite knew where to turn or what to do
And I would stand up at the pulpit, in my ghostly rags, stuck in between
And tell everyone the sad story of me, the misfit, the wannabe...

Too many things made promises to me, and too many times I believed
Too many times switching ladders mid-climb, far too much left unachieved
I'd have shared all the wealth and success, but I'm left all alone with this mess
And if I die today
My epitaph would read this way:

CHORUS: Here lies the girl with the stars in her hair, who bit off more than she could chew
Here lies the poor excuse for a fighter, who never quite knew where to turn or what to do
And I would stand up at the pulpit, in my ghostly rags, stuck in between
And tell everyone the sad story of me, the misfit, the wannabe...

BRIDGE: Please, little girl, keep your dreams in your pocket, don't let them out in the air
You're not prepared for the moment you'll realize, there's nothing there...

I could throw myself down at your feet, but the last you'd absolve would be me
And I would die today
But my epitaph would read this way:

CHORUS: Here lies the girl with the stars in her hair, who bit off more than she could chew
Here lies the poor excuse for a fighter, who never quite knew where to turn or what to do
And I would stand up at the pulpit, in my ghostly rags, stuck in between
And tell everyone the sad story of me, the misfit, the wannabe...