When you walk out of the room like that,
do you know how that reflects on me?
When you choose someone else's posse over
what I created,
how do you think that makes me feel.
There was once me, lost and disgraceful,
now here I am, found and hated.
I made this for us not me.
This is how I got what I needed when there
we're thoughts leading to chances.

When I sit and stare out the doorway,
do you know how it hurts when there are more than thousands of footsteps and no hearts to care?
When the hour goes by, how would you feel if you worked so hard and stood alone?
Everyone knows I'm a fool,
I'm weird,
Inept.
You cannot **** what you did not create.
For once and for all,
leave it up to me.
I saw it dead and gone from the beginning,
but anything that becomes dead,
it's not going to be me.