Samuel

I hate you.

We are the songs they write about us

As you are of pop and pomp

And I am circumstantial rock.

Me so bitter and graceless,

Faceless with a thousand faces, 

And you are the same four chords, 

Overused and tasteless--

And why should I grow and change my life

When you're so bent to take it?

As you are pomp and circumstance

And I'm meticulous and bland--

Just a man.