You can call me immature,
For the way I talk.
You can call me immature,
For how stupidly I laugh at my own jokes making my cheeks go red.
You can call me immature,
For how easily I cry like a baby and then rub my eyes making them red.
You can call me immature,
For how angry I get at one moment and smile at another.
You can call me immature,
For how weirdly I dance.
You can call me immature but trust me,
The happiness in immaturity is infinite times more than in maturity.
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