Lonely people continue to call my name.
I am tired of them feeling in control, I am not in their claim.
I don't want your pity or to be on call.
I've stumbled through heartache, and am not again about to take another fall.
Eyes are always wandering, never stopping to take a glance.
Not many realize where I stand, and they never take a chance.
I'm tired of being over looked, mixed within the crowd
I am amidst all of the empty faces, sometimes I wish I could scream out loud.
I wish someone could see me, for all I aspire to be.
For someone to love me for my inner beauty, to see me for me.
I am guilty too, for not stopping to recognize the people around.
We've given up on each other, forgotten what's profound.
Reach out and touch my hand, pull me from this crowd I'm in.
I am getting Closter phobic, the room is starting to spin.
It's the lonely people that continue to call my name.
To the rest I am a mannequin; I am just another dame.
