I'm not a girl, not yet a woman.
I'm awake - eyes open to the conscious world of hate and disillusionment, but closed to the abstracts that build the scattered fragments of my soul, looking but not seeing.
I have eyes, I'm not a girl
Not yet a woman

I went on to touch the surface of life, really preparing myself of what could be religion, my ideas.
Silly me - arrogance becomes me, life has no surface. The core of existence is to be defined by the assurance of what is.
I have not lived life, I see it amongst the stars
But please understand, I'm not a girl, not yet a woman.

I keep jumping back and forth between the notions of being a girl where idealism and perfection fuels my desires to be, to feel, to create and be still
And being a woman where desires are met by realistic and imperfect ventures. I am not that, that can be defined, I recreate and keep moving.

I'm stuck in the middle of evolving and dissolving, who I was and who I want to be
Forgetting the fact that who I am today is independent of my past but dependent on my future.

I see, I look at me, nakedly flawed and tainted by the filth I inhale daily, but I'm in transition, I will live
I'm not a girl, not yet a women