A new face, an introduction, my, I’ve never seen you before!
You know only my name, what could you possibly hate me for?
Surely, I’ve a smidge of pretentious, layered with eccentricity.
But you can judge that for yourself now that you’re talking to--
That’s what you’ve heard.
Without a shred of proof that this even occurred?
The shepherd has spoken to the herd once more, it would seem.
Despite the proof that I have, the shots on my screen.
My mobile goes off. God damn it, what is it this time?
Isn’t there to be a trial before I hang for a made-up crime?
You line your newsfeed with rainbows, won’t practice what you preach.
I guess to you, ‘judgment-free’ is only a figure of speech.
I suppose the lack of independent thinking is your bloody loss.
I would lend a hand of understanding if it weren’t nailed to a cross.
You’re a hypocritical lynch-mob based solely on lies.
And I’m running out of unscarred skin on my fucking thighs.
Isn’t a social life hard enough for an antiqued aristocrat?
You’ve even come to harass me at my own bloody flat.
Blocked, cut-off, libeled, abandoned, you think you have me beat?
When it comes to thriving in the friction, I can handle the heat.
I’ve spent more than half my life with my back against the wall.
My story has no climax, only an endless rise and fall.
I’ll survive this plunge with the help of alcohol.
Even Holmes survived his jump at the end of Reichenbach Fall.
You can keep lying to me and telling me that everything is fine.
And you can start proving it by buying me a glass of wine.