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But he doesn't even listen. I don't have to finish sentences anymore because he's already made up his mind. Pure prejudice. I don't bother tellin’ him anymore what actually happened. Just cut straight to what he wants to hear. Don't even think of it as lying just gettin’ to the crux as quick as possible, before the criticism starts.
Well, why don’t ...
No matter what I do, it’s never good enough. How the hell does he know what’s good enough? He never got past the Intermediate! He comes out with all this gobbledygook about how far I can go, how much talent I have, and how I am wasting it. Wasting what he slaved his guts out to provide for me. The entire lecture, I can just about give it to you verbatim.
Yeah, I know my ...
I reckon what it’s about is choice, my choice, not his.
