When everything you touch turns to shit.
When every time you speak your mind,
You end up in a fit.
Then why not do what a wombat does,
And dig yourself a hole.
Bury yourself deep inside,
Working to a tailspin to find your common goal.
But then why should you listen to a wombat in distress?
All I ever do is hide, Than move to a new address.
It's time for me to evolve, from a wombat into a dove,
Instead of working my way down,
Start scrambling up above.
Above all the shit thrown at me that fertilises not my soul,
And start some new beginnings far from in this hole.
Allow myself the blessing of someone nearby,
To laugh with and be with, even when I cry.
Cause if I wallow in my hole too long, all that I can be,
Is just another lump of dirt pushing up a tree.