Small chances, I would not make it
Big world, there is no space for me
Fast days, times change just to fit
Sad letters, I write with melancholy
To what do I owe the pleasure
Of watching others succeed before me
To what do I have to pray to
Just so I could fulfill dreams, truly
Game vices, I obsess over trivial things
Dame dances even when there's no mind
Lean cinches, my neck is poised to break
Shame vicious, there is no saving from kind