Smiling for miles in pink dresses
But I'm not
That I'm not
I've been tearing around in my fucking nightgown
24/7, Sylvia Plath
Writing in blood on my walls
'Cause the ink in my pen don't work in my notepad
Don't ask if I'm happy, you know that I'm not
But at best I can say I'm not sad
'Cause hope is a dangerous thing
For a woman like me to have
Hope is a dangerous thing
For a woman like me to have
I had fifteen-year dances
Church basement romances yeah I've cried
Spilling my guts with the Bowery Bums
Is the only love I've ever known
Except for the stage which I also call home when I'm not
Serving up God in a burnt coffee pot for the triad
Hello it's the most famous woman you know on the iPad
Calling from beyond the grave, I just wanna say, "Hi dad"
I've been tearing up town in my fucking white gown
Like a goddamn near sociopath
Shaking my ass is the only thing that's
Got this black narcissist off my back
She couldn't care less and I never cared more
So there's no more to say about that
Except hope is a dangerous thing
For a woman like me to have
Hope is a dangerous thing
For a woman with my past
There's a new revolution
A loud evolution
Born of confusion
And quiet collusion
Of which mostly I've known
A modern day woman
With a weak constitution
Monsters still under my bed
That I could never fight off
A gatekeeper carelessly dropping
The keys on my nights off
I've been tearing around in my fucking nightgown
24/7, Sylvia Plath
Writing in blood on your walls
They write that I'm happy, they know that I'm not
But at best you can see I'm not sad
But hope is a dangerous thing
For a woman like me to have
Hope is a dangerous thing
For a woman like me to have
Hope is a dangerous thing
For a woman like me to have
But I have it
Yeah, I have it
I have