Realistically, I was fine.
On paper, everything was more than alright.
I worked hard,
and I technically was a big part of all the great things.
I always wanted-- want--more.
Man, isn't that the American way.
Trying to plaster the smiles, the facade, is such a chore.
They say it doesn't matter, WE'RE here.
I don't think being loved back is too much too ask.
They say I'm lucky,
But all I can see is tails up.