My life is like a star in space,
aimlessly wandering around,
too shy to even show my face,
in case my hopes run aground.
I want to start afresh upon this chance,
but even now I know,
that no matter how I sing and dance,
the opportunity, I will throw.
I\'m like a victim in a car crash,
trapped in an outcome they didn\'t deserve,
in the end I\'ll be strapped for any cash,
not even in the Government reserve.
I wish for things to once go right,
at least that\'s my intention,
but whenever I walk towards the light,
failure is my only invention.
I am a grain of rice in a bag,
waiting for someone to shop,
and despite how often they scream and nag,
I\'ll never be the cream of the crop.
As the coins roll around the shopping floor,
I wish for someone to pick me up,
but no matter how much I\'m shown the door,
there\'s nobody there to fill my cup.
I am like the rubbish in a public bin,
cold, unloved, likely compactible,
and even if I refuse to sin,
my faults are never retractable.
For it\'s only ever myself to blame,
and despite the news people may spread,
I don\'t want glamour or fame,
it\'s the truth I want to shed.
One day I\'ll be a star that burns out,
emptied out, in it\'s final state,
and if at that point you scream and shout,
for this star, it\'s too late.