Jamie Three

You look like you rule, working the bread line, regarding other fools, you think you're great, at other's demise, stop before it's too late, does it make you feel good, what’s going on inside, such a face you tool, yet once again, your eyes dance like fireflies, they’ll have their say, it’s poor gruel, these cooked over lies, to all that you do, here in this game, you race for your life, but who holds the reins, poor burnt-out mules, may offer you hindsight, but is it not cool, to ask yourself why?