You said I’m not a loser,
but you proved to me I am.
You told me I’m a diamond,
but you showed me I am sand.
Carried by the wind,
and then dumped in any place,
the dirt I make is wasting space,
it paints disgrace upon my face.
I stare ahead with vacant eyes,
a dot inside your rear-view mirror,
I reflect, and see, despise this thing;
I see now, so much clearer.
Go away, and stay away,
and tell me no more news.
Leave me be and let me breathe
and loosen up your noose.
