I’m done, I say, and they reply,
"You’ve lost, you’re wrong, don’t ask me why."
But I’m not wrong, not in my soul,
I’m wrong because they say I’m not whole.

Right and wrong don’t come from me,
They come from what the crowd can see.
If they think I’m wrong, then that’s my fate,
Not because I’ve failed, but because they dictate.

I’m not wrong by what’s true,
I’m wrong by what they believe is due.
It’s not about what’s really right,
It’s about who holds the power in sight.

So when I say I’m done, it’s clear—
Not because I lost, but because I fear
That right and wrong are just what they decide,
Not what’s real, but what they hide.