She is five feet of trouble and she's asked every bank in the nation to make change.

She watched her pile of dreams work it's way into the teenage campfire as 'kindling,' and 'fuel.'
Fuel that was supposed to fill her car and take her across America
   but maybe she'll waste less gas money with less weight in the car.
No one can seem to break the hundred her sophomore year made her save and save and save.
No one can break the mentality that one hundred is more beautiful alone than with a cherry on top.

They think she's a fraud and won't pay off the loan.
If she temporarily believes in saving up, don't dash away her delusions.
On the 4th of July she put on her dreams and even her mother knew she wasn't ready.
She looked in the mirror and saw fear instead of excitement.
But don't tell that to the 2nd grade journal wishes.
Don't tell that to the 7 year old dressed up for Halloween.
Don't tell that to the beating heart who thinks he's done his part.

She is an addiction. And a relapse. And a piece of work.
She sheds more tears than light and that's surprising because people look at her for sun.
She is five feet of trouble and five years of insecurities.
She is a size 0 that is too small and never small enough.

and she's asked every cashier for cash back
All they say is 'Sorry, we don't do that here.'