Amanda Falk - Charade

an^C#mother day, I paint ^Aon a face that ^Ethey expect to ^Bsee It’s n^C#mot all I want, but it’s a^All I’ve got to m^Eake this world bel^Bieve ^ANothings wrong with me I’m an a^C#mrtist of em^Aotion, a ma^Ester of dece^Bit and the^C#m many faces I^A portray are n^Eothing at all like ^Bme ^Ahow I long to be free

f^Brom this, n^Eever ending^A maze, oh my he^C#mads in a d^Baze every time I thi^Ank in this ov^Ber played ch^Earade, oh^A my h^C#mearts gonna f^Bade and I can’t go ^Aon

it’s a ^C#mtug of war each mo^Ament to h^Eide this pain ^Binside but to o^C#mpen up, and s^Apill this cup of feeli^Engs that I hid^Be but w^Ahat would people think, what would people say ^Bwhen hear the truth, will they turn and run away will they t^Ehrow a stone, or lend a shoulder to lean o^Bn

it’s not ^C#mfair, I can’t take this anym^Aore oh these t^Eears, are drifting me from sh^Aore is there h^C#mope for someone just like m^Ae? then I h^Dear a voice inside me say^A, “I can set you fr^Bee”.

^BFrom this, nev^Eer ending m^Aaze, I will^C#m be your str^Bength If you let ^Ame in S^Bo just, take m^C#my hand and ^Asee, if you fo^Bllow me, you can be fr^Aee