Verse 1
Morning coffee, empty hall
I keep my distance, through it all
Small talk fading day by day
Got my reasons why I stay
(Oh, oh, keeping to myself)
Chorus
You don't know my story
But you sure love to tell it
Think you've got me figured out
Well, let me spell it
I'm not what you say I am
Not what you say I am
(No, no, not what you say)
Verse 2
Three degrees upon my wall
Worked two jobs, I gave it all
Nine-nine-nine is what I make
Every penny that I take
Goes to keeping me alive
Still I hold my head up high
(Oh, oh, standing tall)
Chorus
You don't know my story
But you sure love to tell it
Think you've got me figured out
Well, let me spell it
I'm not what you say I am
Not what you say I am
Bridge
Put your words up on display
Twist my truth another way
But I know who I am
And I won't break, I won't bend
I've been down this road before
And I'll rise up once again
(Yes I will, yes I will)
Verse 3
In my room, I find my peace
Let your judgment finally cease
Every chapter that I've lived
Every struggle, what I give
Makes me stronger day by day
Watch me as I find my way
(Oh, oh, finding strength)
Chorus
You don't know my story
But you sure love to tell it
Think you've got me figured out
Well, let me spell it
I'm not what you say I am
Not what you say I am
(No, no, not what you say)
Outro
I'm not what you say I am
(Let me tell my own story)
I'm not what you say I am
I do not care if people know I am low income. It is obvious. I paid 550 when I moved in with Vicki, and now I am responsible for 972 out of my 999 checks. Thousands of elderly people are in the same boat. I am not playing victim. I am just sharing my reality. Rents are skyrocketing and I am tired of realtors and developers trampling over people for profit.
I have worked hard, juggling jobs to pay for my education, and I am not a slacker. I am just trying to survive. Vicky and I clash because I believe in kindness and equality, while she belittles me. I am looking for a new place because I want peace, not verbal abuse. I am not ashamed of my situation. I am just living my truth.
I will keep moving forward one day at a time.
This is a fictional story regarding low-income elderly vs bully landlords.
Commentary put to visuals. I am seventy-five, low income and worried about losing my benefits. It is not just about me, but millions of other elderly who are also low income.
I like to work with music and lyrics as it gives me pleasure in this dystopian nightmare here in America,
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