Chances are you don’t fit in
though others may not see.
I’d dare to guess inside your skin’s
a lonely place to be.
Chances are you’re plenty bright
but feel like such a dolt,
when words intended to delight
cause others to revolt.

Your self-esteem is but a dream,
your mind a reckless train.
You plan and pray and scheme
to forever more abstain.

Psychic? Nope. Not that at all,
it’s just remembering.
My life and vice and my downfall
with yours the song do sing.