I'll never be Jimmy Superfly Snooka
no matter how hard I try to fly.
My wings have been duct taped so many times
I think I'm a MacGeyver rerun.

I'm repeating the word chicken to a wrestling arena
full of drunken men, from my dad's shoulders.
I want Jimmy to pin em' all
to that thin padded mat.

I try to catch popcorn in my mouth
and get yelled at for being too little.
It's hard to grow up and be someone bigger
when your body isn't able to stretch.

I act strong, but tell lies on the inside.
I want to play rough.
My mind wants to wrestle like Jimmy
but I'm stuck in this five-year-old body.

When you're small people don't take you serious.
I stand looking up at the ground
trying not to get stepped on
instead of worrying about the price of beer.

My teeth are full of JuJu beads.
My hair is tangled. Haven't combed it in days.
My complexion is spotted with all the sugar I eat,
but I won't look in a mirror.

I just want to watch pain and anger
radiate from losing faces
big enough to swallow me whole and spit me out
into a crowd of instinct driven fans.

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