There are monsters in my closet
they cry my name
the cries they make are always the same,
"look at what you've done,
you narcissistic beast"
and in my closet they feast
on my guilt
while in the corner, I sit quite and still

I managed to lose
my golden ticket
kicked out of the factory
with my sticky chocolate digits

I don't wear a cape
that's black or red
and we both know if I did
it would get stuck on my head

My car doesn't fly
and would probably sink
it's actually my parents'
we can steal it if we're quick

I can't swing a sword
and I can't ride a horse
I'm not prince charming
maybe I can learn to ride a horse

I don't have a point
I am trying to make
I just hope you realize
truth is better than what's fake.