You walk around with you head held high.
Like you made it out in the nick-of-time.
You spread your wings like a bird that's been in a cage.
Please, just get off of your own little stage.
Can you not hear them,the crowd is boo'ing.
This game you've been playing, you're finally losing.
Everyone's on my side this round,
So go on, don't even take a bow.
You're a player at a game that nobody likes.
You're the lack of breeze that kills the freedom of a kite.
So walk away with your "swag" stride.
Bend down and pick up what's left of that pride.
You're nothing now, just a player.
The real you might be under all of your layers.
But remember to look back and see,
The branches of sadness hanging from this tree.
And maybe on day in time,
Your sadness and anger will be hanging right next to mine.