Twice a week, same time each day,
a wind of confusion and lies is clear.
Our teenage desire we obey,
sacrificing all we hold so dear.

What to do? Who to see?
What to wear? And how to speak?
Do any of these people see the real me?
Loneliness in a crowd shown at its peak.

With one sip of that, one hit of this,
to happiness you think you will be nearer.
You think you're on target but it's really a miss.
Always later ashamed of what you see in the mirror.