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You need a friend today, But it never happens after knowing your name. Before people say Good Day they ask how much you weigh, Then they say your skin looks gray. You put a lock on yourself, And try to throw the key so far away From all the demons, so called specialist grown-ups, Commenting between the cups of coffee, Putting you in cuffs. You are the writer of a novel of pain, Still no one understands That you feel ashamed because - You keep it to yourself. Keeping it to yourself. You need a friend today, But it never happens after knowing your name. They say you have a distorted view on yourself, But how can the view be anything else but wrong, Hearing the same old song. You put a lock on yourself, and try to throw the key so far away, From all the demons and the grown ups, putting you in fucking cuffs.