Where did I go wrong? Am I that far off?
Is there a sign, round telling all who see it
To treat me like I'm some jerk off?
When did integrity become so rare? And why do I still even care?
A glutton for punishment, I must get prepared
Cause everytime I end up right here.
So many lives find someone who's like mind
Build a life up together, but I'm always behind
And the foreman is screaming at me, 'DIG! '
But no flora will grow, Cause the soil here is spoiled
And my lumber's no stronger than twig
But my foundation is sound, and there's hope to be found
I suppose I can go one more round
But I feel like I'm stretched thin, And there's no jam in the tin
And I can't eat anymore dry f**king bread.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem