Not a winner.
Not a looker.
Not a hint of luck in sight.
Just a loser with the taste of failure on the lip.
Just a whiner with a complain for everything.
Just a bad time to be around.
Every now and then, the coin flips to 'heads' not 'tails'.
But so far there has been no 'now', just a wishful 'then'.
And when the gray clouds start to come in.
And when it starts poring in.
I know i'll taste failure.
But now you see, i'm not alone in this ruthless world,
I got this pen and I got this paper.
And i'll build my own world around these words.
In my own world, these words don't know the meaning of failure.
Just the meaning of beauty.
Let my words run away from my failure.
Let them live on, forever immortal.
So when I fall, they could be my legacy.
That something so pure and something so pure came from failure.
