Sometimes it feels like I am on display
As if some sick audience is watching my every move

Laughing at the sheer absurdity of my life's problems
How they seem to be ripped from a soap opera

But of course any audience will become bored eventually
So new problems arise often to satisfy the sick audience

I can just imagine them sitting there nice and cozy
Enjoying each mistake that I make
Every time I fail
Is a new joy for this sick audience

Life wasn't meant to be perfect
But neither was it meant to be a joke
Why does life have to mock me this way
With little touches of coincidence that would be funny
If this wasn't my life

All that I ask
Is for this sick audience
To get tired of my life
Prompting the producer to move on to screw with someone else