| Oh, how I feel for the sky | 
| Overused by poetry and rhymes | 
| It’s in the sentence that follows | 
| «We stayed up all night» | 
| Oh, shouldn’t it concern me | 
| That we shrink beauty to fit in our minds? | 
| Don’t have to listen to the whole song | 
| To know what’s in the third line | 
| Tell me should I feel right, tell me should I feel fine | 
| About tossing the meaning for the sake of the rhyme | 
| But aren’t we good at turning beauty into clichés? | 
| Oh, how I feel for the lonely girl | 
| Quickly made into a woman by the world | 
| They combed sense through her hair | 
| Straightening out her curls | 
| While you’re waiting for someone to see you | 
| You make fast friends with abuse | 
| And you’ll do just about anything it tells you to | 
| But I’ll never feel right, I’ll never feel fine | 
| About shaping the meaning to fit in the rhyme | 
| Changing the human into what sells and buys | 
| But aren’t we good at turning beauty into clichés? | 
| It’s never, ever so alphabetical | 
| You go out of order and they call you heretical | 
| And you just said what nobody had time to hear | 
| Pretending the truth isn’t explicit | 
| Won’t censor the people affected by it | 
| It’s like the first time you ever heard real music in your ears | 
| It’ll never be enough, it’ll never measure up | 
| Turning the depth of the ocean to the size of a cup | 
| But aren’t we good at turning beauty into clichés? | 
| It’ll never make sense, if you make sense of it | 
| All the things that make you cry out of happiness | 
| But some things are just better left unexplained | 
| But aren’t we good at turning beauty into clichés? |