She smiles at you, and nods like she cares
She laughs at your jokes and she plays with her hair,
She fixes you with her pretty little stare,
And the truth is, she’s
not
even
there.
She goes through the motions and cheers for the fans
She showsa devotion you can hear fromthe stands
She catches your eye with the outfit she wears
When the truth is, she’s
not
even
there.
She goes home by herself ebery day, and she locks the door
She goes into her room, and she prays, throws her books on the floor,
But she’s all alone; it’s like nobody’s home
And the truth is, she’s
not
even
there.
She feels like she’s been missing for a long time.
She’s disappearing and no one seems to mind,
So she forces that broken-glass smile, says that she’s fine
When the truth is, she’s
not
even
there.
She’s not the type of girl to end her pain with a razor blade
Not the type to complain, or leave a stain, she’s the type who always evades
She’s the type of girl who’s self-contained, wjo only cries in the rain
And the truth is, she’s
not
even
there.
So she goes for the pills and fights off the chills, and swallows for better or worse
And after smiling so plastically, it’s not like things are changing drastically,
Because the silence so still, it kills and it thrills, as rain beats down on the hearse.
And the truth is, she
was
never
really
there.
She smiled at you, and nodded like she cared
She laughed at your jokes and she played with her hair,
She fixed you with her pretty little stare,
But the truth is, she was
never
really
there.
