to whom it may concern

hello, are you listening
i just turned sixteen
i'm not a child but not grown up
lost somewhere in between

i think i'll join a street gang
cause i'm out here all alone
its getting kind of cold
and i'm drenched down to the bone

i'm not deaf after all i
can hear what you say
you tire of our pleading
from day to day

if you'd only listen
i have a story to tell
i wasn't born out here
but it wasn't far i fell

i cant go back home
my parents hate me
they tossed me out here
because we disagree

there's not much left in me
to bother hating back
i don't have the strength
to counterattack

if it helps a little
i hate myself too
for having to mooch
off people like you

at this point in the game
i have nothing to hide
nothings held back
by what's left of my pride

alone in the darkness
thinking i'll never learn
playing the fiddle
while i watch my world burn

i'm walking the streets
from which few return
we're dying out here
to whom it may concern