He loves me

You said that I wasn't good, so I just believed you. And you said that I wasn't special, so I lived that way, with critical gazes and brutal amazement, at how my reflection could be so imperfect. With all of my blemishes, how could somebody want me?

But he loves silly. He doesn't see the way I see. He takes silly and turns it into something that is wonderful, apparently I'm good cause you love me.

I tried to clean up the outside, all shiny and new. Worked overtime to thin up and look right but inside. I knew that deep in the bottom were secrets, I thought I could try to ignore. Old ghosts in my corridors never get tired of haunting the past that's in me.

Help me believe why you love me, when I know you see everything.

Yes, God loves silly, he doesn't see the way I see.