Can't make my own decisions or make any with precision
Well, maybe you should tie me up so I don't go where you don't want me
You say that I've been changing, that I'm not just simply aging
Yeah, how could that be logical?
Just keep on cramming ideas down my throat
You don't have to believe me
But the way I, way I see it
Next time you point a finger
I might have to bend it back
And break it, break it off
Next time you point a finger... I'll point you to the mirror