it's lunch time
she's nibbling on the usual handful of fries she allows herself to eat
desperately hoping her intent will remain discreet
she excuses herself to the ladies' room
willing her stomach to accept what little food she's just consumed
but it's too late; those fries comes up with a nasty vengeance
so, she wipes her face and gives her mouth a little rinse
looks in the mirror and tries not to wince
she's pale, sickly, tired, and thin
didn't think that dropping a few pounds would
make her feel so empty within
but it has, and she doesn't know who's to blame
is it her, or that little demon inside, inflicting all this pain?
it's this vicious cycle she lives everyday
her body gets a mind of its own, and she just looks on in dismay
it's those voices inside her head
drowning out the rationale that there's better days ahead
they give her life a rhythm, a sad sorrowful beat
it's like a sick game and she's got no choice but to compete
so, she continues doing what she's doing in despair
fully aware that the damage to her body is too great to repair
it's gonna be a long and painful path to return back
to what she once was, and that's pretty funny cause:
it was never supposed to end up like this
she just wanted those skinny jeans to fit
but now she's that dreaded hypocrite
another statistic overcome
by society's pressure to be number one
so much for actually becoming someone
I guess that's just the price she's going to have to pay
for caring so much about how much she weighs
she never knew how much it sucked to be a cliché
...
it kind of sucks to be a cliché