You reach around the room for broken girls,
You know, the ones with those innocent curls.
They trust in you, with all their might,
Still believing in you when you cut them down to size.
And everyone tries to save us girls,
You know, the ones with the innocent curls.
We don't want to listen,
When the lies hurt and the truth glistens.
And we don't want more than what we can bear,
Knowing that our hearts are beginning to tear.
No one wants to feel the pain,
Tired of the boys playing this game.
When all we want is everything this world has to offer,
And just to raise good daughters.
We should no longer raise them this way,
Getting set up always to be played.
No longer will girls be wound up like musical toys,
To fill the playful and selfish needs of boys.