Paula Cole Bethlehem
Pulling on the apron strings looking upStanding on the chair to be grown upI feel so little, I need my pillowI hate the time, I hate the clockI want to be a dog or I want to be a rock
Sunday's pancakes Miss Mary MackColor Polariods show my heart attackIn my second-hand pants and dusty shoesThe day that the playground laughed at my shoesIt's my birthday next week and what I want pleaseIs to turn on the heat so the fish won't freezeThe fish in the tank froze and died last weekOh I want to be a dog or I want to be a leaf
Quarry miners, fishermenIn my town of BethlehemPicket fences, church at tenNo star above my Bethlehem
Now I'm only 16 and I think I have an ulcerI'm hiding my sex behind a dirty sweatshirtI've lost five pounds these past few daysTrying to be class president and get straight A's, well,Who gives a shit about that anyway?I want to be a dog or a lump of clay
Chorus
Still I'm tired of standing stillTired of living - stillEveryday I dream of leaving
Everybody's talking about Becky's bustThe boys on the basketball team just f..ckThe same ten girls, who don't know who they areThey're looking for some comfort in the back of a carThe six-packs of beer, the locker room jeersI don't want to be me, I don't want to be here
Chorus
Red brick schoolhouse, dead end dirt roads, daffodilsNo star above my Bethlehem
I want to be a dog or I want to be a rockI don't want to be me, I don't want to be hereBethlehem
