The loneliness of being a
twat
Not much sympathy for that
You’ve made your bed,
you’ll lie in it
For all they care you’ll
die in it
You’re looking for a
shoulder
There’s a mirror there to
cry on it
You blew it
Fucked up and you knew it
Saw the drama, walked
right to it
All so easily avoided
Tapestries your dick
embroidered
Friends have turned too
many cheeks
Too many sins, too many
weeks
They isolate you from the
cliques
You’re poisonous, your
morals reek
You’re excommunicated
In black holes ego created
Now you creep around the
streets
Avoiding anyone related
Just in case they start to
preach
As if their humour’s
constipated
What’s the problem?
Was it all so bad?
You’re over it, but
they’re still mad
You try to reason with the
girls
They say you make them
sick
So you try to get the boys
on side
But they think you’re a prick.
Like it’s as if you
antagonise by merely existing
Kiss anyone who looks at
you, might wana try resisting
Left alone
Weekends on your own
2 numbers left on your
phone
One’s your mother’s, one’s
your own
Who’s the text from?
Might’ve known
Try to make some new
friends
Cos you’ve got no old ones
left
Hoping they won’t realise
you’re morally bereft.
Weeks go by, all seems
fine
Breakdown a matter of time
Like the old ones tried to
warn yer
Ill behaviour round the
corner
Little creases turn to
cracks
Up to no good behind backs
Always on edge, can’t
relax
No one’s got no time for
that, mate
Just behave yourself for
god’s sake
You could save yourself
the ball ache
Of the blame of all the
heart ache
Get your name crossed out
from parties
Getting phased out groups
you started
Do you feel it?
Is it guilt?
Have you burned the
bridges built
Have you noticed they all
realise
The zombie dead look in
your eyes
You’re fake, phoney
Billy-no-mates
Late, lonely
No one waits
Look around you
Where you at?
Stranded, no one’s got
your back
But there’s no sympathy
for that
The loneliness of being a
twat.
