They call me daredevil but I'm not precise enough.
Unprofessional, on an amateur level.
I love my life too much.
A sore loser, yelling with my mouth shut.
A cracking portrait, the fondling of trophies.
The null of losing, can you afford that luxury?
A sore winner, but I'll just keep my mouth shut.
It shouldn't bother me, no, but it does.
The small victories, the cankers and medallions.
The little nothings, they keep me thinking that, someday,
I might beat you, but I'll just keep my mouth shut.
It shouldn't bother me, no, but it does.
If I speak at one constant volume,
At one constant pitch,
At one constant rhythm,
Right into your ear,
You still won't hear.
My outlook on life:
Get your own Save Harold!
