You were a paper airplane,

Folding yourself in,

But haven’t you learned darling,

You’ll never be just right again?

 

You can change your shape,

Fold up the flat piece of paper you are,

And let yourself fly but in the end,

You’ll have a scar.

 

You never were happy,

With your the way you were,

Always trying to change yourself,

Until you looked like her.

 

The wind might feel good,

And the view might look pretty,

But by folding yourself in,

You’re hating yourself and body.