Kind of.

You know

You're kind of a piece of shit,

Making me feel like this.

I know I've not said it—

At least not to your face

Or in those exact words—

But I think we both are well aware that it's the truth.

I try to come up with

Every excuse,

Every reason,

Every fucking line of possible logic,

That you could be following

And still—

It doesn't check out

And when other people talk shit,

I'll sit there and defend your sorry ass

Day in,

Day out,

Until the mother fuckin' cows come home,

But still—

At the end of the day,

They all know—

And I know—

You're kind of a piece of shit.