You have to be a special kind to do the things you do
And keep a tab of who said what, and what was done by who
No matter what the circumstance, no matter what the scene
Everything is personal, all lines read in between.
You keep these things you can’t let go on a tidy little list
In the pockets of your mind and you use them like a fist
And blow them on your friend or kin, it really matters not
The bruise you leave has been conceived by things they all forgot.
And when you’re done and walk away your victim sits there reeling
But big and tall and straight you go, your head should rub the ceiling
Never does it occur that maybe you misunderstood
Your focus was on revenge, it must have felt so good.
So late in life it’s lonely and you’re forced to stand alone
The world revolves around not just one – you really should have grown.
Let the words out 