I feel like shit,
no point in denying it
There’s an invisible button in my gut
that this bitch has sought out;
well that’s how it feels,
when you shake off the frills
Am I really not good enough,
or is she merely in a huff
with me and my singing?
My alarm bells are ringing
and I feel like giving in,
maybe not go back again
And then I consider,
have I offended her?
I rack my brains
to see if by any means
I might’ve caused her stress,
or looked like I couldn’t care less
But then I think, who gives a fuck?
If she doesn’t like me that’s just tough;
there’s nought to do but carry on,
ignore her when I sing my song
She’ll get over it eventually,
and take her focus away from me
My singing style is a symbol of my individuality;
in fact it makes me happy as can be
to hear the people sing along, or tap their feet
in time with the melodic beat
What others think of me is their business
and I am powerless to influence this