I don’t want [bad word] your ears
Or hurt you again
But I got back-stabbed by a black cab
When I needed a friend

But now I’m in town, break it down
Thinking of making a new sound
Playing a different show every night
In front of a new crowd
That’s you now, hello, ciao
Seems that life is great now
See me lose focus, as I sing to you loud
I can’t, no, I won’t hush
I’ll say the words that make you blush
I’m gonna sing this now
See, I’m [bad word]  my songs are where my heart is
I’m like glue, I stick to other artists
I’m not you, now that would be disastrous
Let me sing and do my thing
And move to greener pastures
See, I’m real, I do it all, it’s all me
I’m not fake, don’t ever call me lazy
I won’t stay put
Give me the chance to be free
Suffolk sadly seems to sort of suffocate me
You need me, man, I don’t need you
You need me, man, I don’t need you
You need me, man, I don’t need you

Does he write his own tune?
Does he write his own verse? [bad word] Or need another wordsmith
to make the tune sell?
Call yourself a singer-writer
You’re just bluffing
Your name’s on the credits
And you didn’t write nothing
I sing fast
I know that all my [bad word] s cool
I will blast
And I didn’t go to Brit School
I came fast with the way I act, right
I can’t last, if I’m smoking on a crack pipe
I won’t be a product of my genre
My mind will always be stronger than my songs are
Never believe the [bad word] that fake guys feed to ya
Always read the stories that you hear in Wikipedia
And musically I’m demonstrating
When I perform live, feels like I am meditating
Times at The Enterprise when some fella filmed me
‘young singer-writer like Gabriella Cilmi’
You need me, man, I don’t need you
You need me, man, I don’t need you
You need me, man, I don’t need you, at all