Its hard not being loved,
Too heavy to hold in one's arms.
I'm kicked quite a lot,
Believe it or not,
And often subjected to harm.
My work is full of pain,
I pick up boulders in the town,
That scratch my surface
While shouting insults
As I carefully drop them down.
I can't help what I do,
My master can but he hates me!
A Pile of rubbish,
I'm called stupidly
As I'm working excellently.
The public chain themselves
On my next demolition task
Shouting and screaming,
As though I am death
Unveiling my horrific mask.
I can't help wishing
I'm the watch my master holds tight,
As he grins at it,
And pats it while
Leaving me lonely for the night.
I'm scared of the dark,
And sure I'm allergic to stones,
But that is my life.
My name rhymes with pain,
So I'll keep silent and not moan
But helplessly long for a new home.
