It's 11pm and I'm hungry and tired,
moved so many boxes, my arms are on fire.
From one cage to another, just downgrade the size,
so I'm more confined.

It's easy to sit here and complain a lot,
but I'm not complaining, 'cause this is all I got.
I'm just another runaway that ended up caught,
in the things I'm not.

So call me a failure and call me a dud,
I take pride in everything I've done.
I don't live to your standards because they're no fun,
I live to feel the sun.

And while my arms are sore and my head really hurts,
I have to remember that things could be worse.
I'm just a someone living a someone life,
isn't it nice?