The Loneliness of Being a Twat

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.