In a world so full of hate
Everyone is in love
I call you on the telephone
You never pick up
Everyone’s got a family
So who am I to blame
For these broken finger nails
And empty picture frames
When you see me on the street
You always turn away
Begining your retreat
Always trying to stray
You hold your head so high
You look to never be beat
The only problem is
Its to high to see your feet
So what about the little people
You step on along the way
Leaving a trail of pain
Creating such disarray
When it comes your final fall
Who will be there to lay you down
But, when you only step on folks
They tend not to stay around
So when lying in your grave
I’ll be there to fill in the hole
To bid you one last fairwell
And a final ” I told you so “