Living in a real life can never be how you picture it when young
I want to be a ballerina, I want to be a fireman
Perspective shifts, and the dreary dreadfulness of reality
It sinks into your skin and permeates your every fiber
Until you realize that life can't be planned -- you do what you can

There are times that others' praise is all that keeps you going
Though it's more than true that sometimes others' expectations
Push on you until down is all you have or let you fall
My life doesn't seem to grow anymore, now or in my pasts
I think what I need are some total self renovations

Years ago, more or less a decade my mind tells me I believe
I overheard a conversation -- two men in discussion over me
"She can't run on forever, though it seems she's gonna try"
"Does that really matter? She'll own men like us someday"
I don't think they realized, listening from the shadows was she

They talked about my strong potential in the futures, now
Can you tell me how exactly is that measured? And let me know why?
One says, "She may not be a looker, but she'll do this town proud"
He's answered, "Yeah ... if only some of her critics realized that"
When I heard this I wanted to both sink into the ground and fly

My life has been a disappointment in most ways, to me if no one else
I wanted to be more, do more, reach for horizon's sunset
Three and twenty times I've heard the doctors say, "Girl, you're gonna die"
Sheer fear of having nothing to show, being forgotten kept me here
Looking back at my pasts, I think I finally realize -- this is as good as I get

I'm nobody's dream girl, though maybe not a nightmare either
I'm not the most successful, though my head's above the water
I'm far from being one that people seek out when they need company
I likely won't have children, to think fondly of their mommy
And worst of all it seems ... I'll never marry at the altar

I've lost and gained so many times I've begun to wonder lately
Does anything I do really matter beyond the here and now?
Or am I truly living for the moment and simply should cease to care?
When I look into the mirror, I'm more critical than most
I look beyond and am disappointed, wondering "How?"

How could I have strayed so far from what I wanted?
What results when thought about 10 years ago I could only abhor
Have somehow in the intervening time become something I could accept
Life ignores exactly what it wants to as you scream along unprepared
What hurts a lot is that it seems what I hate is what I am -- someone to ignore