You're a joke, You're a sickness.

The thought of me caring about what you think of me is a bigger joke than you.
It's a shame you've waisted you time, money, and reputation on being plastic,
you wouldn't know if something was real if it hit you in the face.
I see you walking around and infecting others,
taking out all the good and feeding on the fake.
To the world you're a nothing but a cold,
a runny nose, a sore throat.
We all have to deal with you but no one wants to.

You're nothing as a person,
there are no redeeming qualities.
You're a walking sickness,
infecting the weak minded.

Once an antidote comes around you'll fight for a bit,
but eventually you'll back down.