Summer wakes up in the morning, Picks apart her clothing, And sands away her face She was told her glow was blinding To put away her lightning And keep it herself Dancer stands inside her mirror Turns up the exposure And makes herself a print And she wears The picture 'round her collar Hoping that she's honest Or broke enough to sell I just want be a commodity Make me how you like it Buy me at the market And tell me that you want me Do you want me? Writer, breathing through a filter, Tries to start a fire Turning friction into verse And he lays With his face down in an ocean Trying to soak his dry pen And saturate his vision I just want to be a commodity Make me how you like it Buy me at the market And tell me that you want me Do you want me? Summer, sneaks back in her bedroom When the night's in full bloom And prays she'll be alright