Laa la-la la la, laa la-la la la, laa la-la la la, la.
When I couldn't be popular I made the decision to be above in all in cool. But all my efforts were met with derision by every dill-weed in my school. For example, I'd like to wear black lipstick, but I don't want to make a fuss. So I avoid getting my ass kicked by staying inconspicuous.
And it only makes sense, oh-oh, in a world that's so cruel, oh-oh. It's my only defense against the kids in my school.
I can't say my teenage years are a Sunday walk in the park. But I gots, you see, I gots the smiths; I got in Clarke. And a world view that my parents say is prematurely dark.
But I really don't mind, oh-oh, when they give me those looks, oh-oh. I can always go and hide inside my music and books.
But I'm not your typical teenage outsider; J. D. Salinger isn't my favorite writer. I get my books at the grocery store; I'm sure you've seen them there before. They're gothic, horror, romance novels and everyone thinks they're above 'em. They're trashy, poorly written, and ridiculous, and I can't get enough of 'em. It says here on the jacket the author died in '85. He may be two years dead and buried but the franchise stays alive. And there're like, forty-seven novels, and every one of them's the same. In fact the only thing that changes is the heroine's name.
She's a good as gold, oh-oh. She's Vatche-sold, oh-oh. And she talks like a porn star and she's fourteen years old. She's always a brilliant dancer or a painter or an actress or something like that. And then she finds out her family isn't her family; she's really a high-born aristocrat. And she falls head-over-heels for a hottie who turns out to be her dad!
And she's beaten and molested, oh-oh... And she travels the worlds, oh-oh. And she's beaten and molested! And I want to be that gi-i-irl! Oh-waoh-oh! I want to be ado-opted! I want to be a ballerina!
Who cares if her world is filled with secrets, incest, and mysterious death! So what if every storyline reads like Judy Blume on meth?
You may think I'm a flake, oh-oh. You may call me a fool, oh-oh. But it's the perfect escape from the kids in my school.