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I really hate this.
Walking through an ally.
Smoking a cigarette.
Why do you have to be the way you are?
Was it a birth defect?
Or your mothers corruption.
Has it always been about you?
Or was it me who made you feel that it was.

Walking through an ally.
Smoking a cigarette.
Thinking about this more, I realize it's always been the same.
I was just so blinded by how bright the spotlight was,
Oh so blinded,
That I couldn't see that it wasn't shared.
Now my eyes have adjusted,
It's always been there,
Making you the star in my sky.
Me the dirt beneath your feet.

I'm walking through an ally.
Smoking a cigarette.
And I realize now that I've been your doormat,
And that I needed to stand up.
Knock your feet out from beneath you.
And leave you in the dirt where you belong.
Maybe you'll find someone who'll enjoy more ully the scent of your feet.

But for now I'm content without.
And now I walk through an ally.
Smoking a cigarette.
Whipping bottles to the ground,
Pretending that your face is the one with glass shards sticking out from every end.

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