Time of my own lost in few hours.
Beating at an empty bush for pretty flowers.
It has no use,
What's its being but just self abuse.

Something I'm trying to prove,
Stuck up person, never keen to move.

Wicked I could be,
Knowing my name well, but do you know me.

They may know your face,
But not what you hide in your hearts empty space.

Wicked I am,
Some days I fall.