HOTTER

Why do you pick on me like I am a scab on your knee
Pick, Pick, Pick until I bleed
Band-aids are not free

If I am so different from you
Why am I the one that has to move
After all those things you do

I try to back away but you call me to play
I don't want to live my life this way
Time makes things fade will it do the same to my hate

212 degrees is the boiling point of water
For me, it does not get any hotter