We see through you,
Like a slice of Swiss.
You’re a phony baloney,
We’re convinced of this.
We can tell you’re lying,
Your lips are moving.
So, says that song,
To which we’re grooving.
To totally deny,
What you said.
You’ve made it now,
Lay in your bed.
You’re tone of voice,
Condescendingly so,
Hurtful and mean,
The shade you throw.
It’s kind of sad,
You don’t realize.
We see through you,
And, your lies.
We’re done with you,
You’re not superior.
Go back to your world,
A sad little sphere.