Lay down the load of others' sorrows.
Your back it should not bend.
For on the morrow,
You shall be on the mend.

People have been so wrong.
No matter what I say,
They sing that tired old song.
And, treat you the same old way.

They didn't appreciate the burdens you shared.
When their day was bad,
Never noticed how much you cared.
Nor, did they spare a thought that you might be sad.

To them, I do beseech,
Stop the games, it's all in your head.
Cease being a leech.
Or, kindly, drop dead.