You sit there in that same stool,
Like you own this place,
Wallowing in the misery,
That shows on your face.

Your sad pitiful life,
Just a shell of what it once was,
Is all you have to hold onto,
Bitterness is your new cause.

So you circulate the rumors,
And plant your seeds of contention,
Cause you can’t stand,
No longer being the center of attention.

You hate that I come here,
And turn heads when I walk in the door,
So you gossip about me,
Call me a slut and a whore. 

You weave your web of lies,
Each one meant to hurt and destroy me,
This woman who has infringed,
On your sacred territory.

You don’t like how I look,
You don’t like how I dress,
You hate that I walk in,
With looks that impress.

You think you can hurt me?
And destroy my pride?
Well you obviously don’t know me,
I’ve BEEN on this ride.

You know nothing about me,
Where I’ve been and what I’ve done,
But you judge me anyway,
And think your lies have won.

What you don’t know,
Is that your rumors and hate,
Are seen for what they are,
By the people in this place.

They see your envy and jealousy,
And they feel sorry for you,
Cause the only way you can feel better,
Is to knock down the woman who

Makes you feel insignificant,
And unimportant in your space,
Well you might as well give up your crusade,
Cause I’m not leaving this place.