I own nice things but they own me.
I'm surrounded by people but I'm alone.
I'm loved but I can't love.
My car is fast but I've lost my way.
I've achieved but what is success?
Is success defined by me or everyone else?
And does success have a limit?
I miss when my friends were my mates,
When lovers loved me
And my family wasn't small.
I wish I hadn't given up on my dreams
And ignored what kept me alive at night,
Even if my dreams were to fail.
I'm old and I feel old.
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