I could have guessed it all along, cuz now some drama queen is gonna write a song for me

I'm bipolar, but I'm not crazy, and I never was. I'm stark raving sane.

What if I'm an angel without wings to take me home?

Thank you. It used to be knee length, but then I discovered that when I get angry I like to cut things. I'm not allowed to have scissors any more. It's still pretty lengthy, but I've been threatening to shave half of it for the past week and nobody seems to believe me... I do it all myself though because I scream when I'm touched and that scares people.

I was reading everything under the sun from music history to feminist literature to Shakespeare, which is why I'm not a complete idiot at this time.

Simply put, if you are a Wayward Victorian Girl, I'll find you.

Why can I never go back to bed? Who's is the voice ringing in my head? Where is the sense in these desperate dreams? Why should I wake when I'm half past dead?