Target Practice

What am I to you?
a wall at which you can throw weapons
well I won't take any more bullets
so you can get to steppin'
whenever you would screw up
I would always take the fall
I laid my life on the line
for you I busted my balls
I've done a lot of shit for you
and what do I get in return?
my skin is covered in flesh wounds
I've fallen victim to a nasty burn
you try to teach people
but they never fucking learn
talking sense into people
it never seems to work
my patience runs very thin putting me
on the verge of going berserk
so tell me what am I good for?
shooting bullets or throwing knives
pushing arrows through my chest
or pouring acid in my eyes
I guess I'm just a pile of shit
sitting around collecting flies
your cocky attitude and negligence
I so passionately despise
but apparently you're unconcerned
you don't even give a damn all you do
is feed off of decomposing objects like worms
when in the midst of your presence
no one can ever see the light
'cause you don't have electricity
you drown people in darkness every night
so I guess to you I'm just target practice