On top of my game
I've nothing to gain
from a burnout who burned out last week
On top of the world
your hair has been curled
I've a feeling you're much past your peak
You've nothing to lose
pretend you can't choose
because you like the way that it feels
You're ready to go
short skirt and a bow
You've much further to fall in those heels
You'll wait for his call
it won't come at all
So you'll drink to escape from the pain
And then you'll go out
and without a doubt
Your car will be plowed by a train
The end of your life,
by train or by knife,
will be brought about on a whim
on your face is a smirk
yeah, all your life's work
hardly matters when the lights start to dim
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem