I live my life
Like a coming of age film
Won't stop for some time
'Cause I'm coming of age still
Sometimes people are mean
So I used to hide in the washing machine
But my legs kept on growing
And I got to knowing
That I wouldn't fit anymore
Sometimes I still go back
But my legs dangle out of the door
Lately skipping on school is the route I prefer to take more
What does that make of me?
Why do I keep on growing?
Looking forward to annual things
Not my birthday, try New Year's Eve
Once a year, we start a new year
Yet again, it's not guaranteed
Looking forward to less nowadays
Wonder if age plays a part
Hope my brush doesn't run out of paint
Before I even start
But where's my field of flowers?
Where's the soulmate that I meet by chance?
Least I don't have to race 'gainst the terminal tropes of romance
But I wouldn't mind rain
Or to only speak solely in
Poetry quotes or a dance
Or a ticket to France
I find myself stepping on ants accidentally
What does that make of me?
Why do I keep on growing?
What does that make of me?
Why do I keep on growing?
I realize that I'm coming of age still
I think I might be just coming of age 'til
The day that I cease to exist
Roll the credits, I insist
Someday I may just wrinkle
And shrink down enough to still fit
The washing machine
And I'll hide from my worries as my credits roll down on the screen
