Add me to the list of show horses who've kissed a gun
I'm tired of beeing the beaten one. No fun.
Sick of beeing the last man to run I feel like eventually I'll amount to someone But till that day I'm just a body. My sports have become hobies Sleeping in hotel lobies. Giving gobbies for coins There is no fruit in my ***** Just an ache that lies in the wake of my discrimination. Acting alongside my procrastination No longer will my forehead bead with Precipitation
I have become a man that could disappoint a nation