Been stricken sick. She could be the cure

And I felt quite sure. I opened every door

It makes me sick; the things I do for you

The shit that I go through, but I can't make you secure

For once make it go away

Give me what I want and I'll be fine

I need some attention. You can help me clean my wounds

Gotta lot of sewing up to do

And I know what it's like when they're twisting your arm

And it's difficult I'm sure when you don't know who you are

But they don't own you though they may seem to

But isn't that what it means when you belong?

Isn't that what you wanted all along?

Hadn't you realized you might be wrong?