photo: Daniel Murtagh There is more than a finger pointed at me But there are hundreds pointed back at them I'm busy with my own wonderful life While in their idle minds, baseless thoughts stem The only job that they have Is to put together invisible bits I'm too busy in my own real world I have no time for their meaningless skits They spend so much time thinking about me Stalking me everywhere like a ghost While they spend their time doing that I'm pouring champagne and raising a toast They make stories about me everyday I've already killed their characters in my head They crib, cry and complain non stop While I eat, drink and make merry instead Each one of them are poor lonely souls With nothing worth living in their life I've way too many things to care about Than the rumors that seem to run rife They pray to God and ask for my destruction While I just thank God for a wonderful day The happiness in my
Opinion Writer - Saying it the way it is.