I'm so tired of you telling me

How to live and what I should not be

And I'm so tired of you telling me

What to do and what I don't believe

Did you really think by pushing me

I would become what you want me to be?

And did you really think by hating me

I'd open up, I'd just hand you the key?

Nothing good will come of this.

I'm screaming out with my last aching breath.

I'll be yours until my dying day,

But I can never see you.

We, we knew how this would end,