here I am, pulling the hearts out of my lucky charms.
they're just sugar, so honestly, what's the harm?
maybe I'll keep them, maybe I'll throw them away,
but isn't keeping hearts around just a waste?

here I am, drawing a line of chalk on the pavement.
red marks on my arm, so I'm making your placement.
just stay a few feet away, and I think I'll be okay,
'cause I can't stand your fingers, at least for the day.

here I am, selling boxes of my outgrown uniform.
you said you'd help, but broke your word like before.
I already fell, and no one was there to help me up,
but that's become as uniform as not falling in love.