Texty: Bad Religion. Recipe For Hate. My Poor Friend Me.

I know a man who doesn't have many friends,
I know a place where he lives where trouble never ends,
I know it's hard for him to read between the lines,
and his day are getting so much shorter,
he simply turns away instead of bearing down,
his ship is crumbling,
his crew is one of the clowns,
he doesn't care as long as he can wear the crown,
I know this man all too well,
it's my poor friend me,
a portrayal of the great dichotomy
(a reminder of a tragic history),
it's my poor friend me
and I'm running out of steam
I know there are people who are cynical and vane,
they point their finger cause they can't accept the blame,
they live their lives under a blanket of shame and their
progeny crawl from underneath it,
lately I've come to see the solution,
and it begins with me,
but I'm so fallibly human,
I've picked the lot.