Skin Milk

What do I have to do, what do I have to do, you, you, you are not you. I feel strange. Sometimes I think I may be turning into you. I begin to look and talk like you. Sometimes you go into combat and I am afraid for you. Sometimes you take a gun and I am scared of you. I feel I may be a bit of a soldier, too. I take a well-muscled gun with me and some extra bullets too, I am a well-muscled girl trying to be you. The sun beats down for once I am tan, and not like skin milk. What do I do, what do I do, I am a girl in the forest trying to be you. You are a man with your big black gun and big black ego and I am trying to be you.