I walk down the street, eyes on my feet,

My god this feels like a chore.

Though nobody sees me and it almost frees me,

I wish I'd get noticed more.

With the dye in my hair and the clothes that i wear,

Im getting noticed without a doubt.

The whispering grows, the girl nobody knows,

Is all they can talk about.

The rumours spin, im not ok in my skin

When does it cross the line?

Being seen isnt fun and i just want to run.

By myself im really just fine