Insult To Injury - 504 Plan



Why am i so good at bein a fool,

why is it so hard for me to realize it,

i try to remember the good things i say,

its hard to, its hard,

its hard to do,

im not a poet just an idiot,

tryin to make my blind way through the days,

dont talk to me,when i am saddened,

its hard to,

its hard to do,



when im alone in my room

i just think of the days that i sat sad and tired,

when im alone the only thing for me is you and everything you do,

im lazy and stupid,

but i cant get enough of you lately

its changin each day,

the reasons i be with you i just wanna be right here,



why am i so damn hard just to please,

can any one make any sense out of me

i try remember the good things ive done,

its hard to,

its hard to do



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