How come it's so easy to love something when it's not on my body?
I could find the beauty in anything, I could do it for a hobby

But not when it comes to me, no
Not when it comes, no
Not when it comes to me
No, for me it's a chore

But not when it comes to me, no
Not when it comes to me, no
When it comes to me i've got no more

And during a time of rest, I dig up fear
I try and dissect the girl in the mirror

Picking apart everything
Every line that I sing
Every move that I make
Oh I love imperfect things

But not when it comes to me, no
Not when it comes to me, no
Not when it comes to me
No, for me it's a chore

Not when it comes to me, no
Not when it comes to me, no
When it comes to me i've got no more