And you called yourself,
My childhood friend?
You called yourself,
My best friend?
Sit down then you callow bastard,
And let's count the reasons you're not.
A friend calls you names I suppose?
A friend mocks and shames I suppose?
What advice did you give me?
Oh yeah— "Get over it."
How thoughtful and clement of you,
To humble yourself to heed those words.
You mock me for my ego,
Yet you overlook your own.
You're a hypocrite and a sadist,
While your pride soars too high.
You spite those who call for attention,
Yet you love to be noticed when you act.
You're a wannabe manipulator,
Plagued by your own blind eyes.
You're a pathological liar,
And you refuse to acknowledge it.
You're the superior, aren't you?
What makes you better than the rest?
You say I have little purpose—
So say my words have no depth!
At least I'm not buried in my flaws,
Crushing those beneath for hierarchy.
Insult me all you want, I don't care.
Just look at yourself when you look at me.
I may amount to nothing,
But I don't treat everyone else any lesser.
You say my head should be on the willow?
What happens when you get your wish?
Will you smile as my existence is snuffed?
Or would you pretend and live another lie?
What a friend you are to me.
