I am one of billions of women
Who was put on this runway called Earth
Where appearances, incomes, and people we know
are averaged to total our worth.
And we're stuck with the number we're given
As men search for their quality choice.
They place bids on the valuable ones and walk out
with a girl, who's been stripped of her voice.
Then there's me with lousiest price tag,
Sitting alone, untouched, on a shelf.
I'm the defect who's different and doesn't fit in.
That's the cost for being myself.
Others have tried to help me raise my stats just a bit.
The advice that they offered was tempting I must admit.
You must have Style and grace,
Make up on your face,
Chat with friends, Follow trends,
Then head back to his place
Heels and hair, Only care
About what concerns you
Cuz that's what good girls do.
Along with facade transformations
More and more did my eyes seem glued to the mirror,
for conceit's a contagious disease.
As my price levels start getting higher,
Self esteem begins plummeting fast,
But the guys are soon flocking around me, so maybe
I'm something of value at last.
I'm losing my grasp on the person I was once before,
But the world seems to like this new and improved me more
Cuz I have style and grace
And make up on my face.
It's a sign. Form a line
For this thrilling showcase.
Heels and hair, I don't care
Through this distorted view.
So I'm told, that's what good girls do.
Keeping up with what's popular drains me of my energy.
I'm so tired of playing a role no deeper than what you can see.
I am ready to give up the artificial person I've been.
I'll be alone, but I'd rather be alone and in my own skin.
What if I speak my mind,
Leave stereotypes behind,
Go my own way, try to stray
From these numbers that bind me
In doubt. I'm stepping out
Onto land that is free,
And if that's not a good girl
You're misunderstood, world.
You promote wearing masks,
But mirages don't last.
I've put up with this show
But it's time that you know
I'm a good girl just by being me