Higher

When have I ever said
The world was not for me
Or lain myself in bed
Consumed with self-pity?
When have I claimed that I
Was specially mistreated
Or said that should I die
The fact would be well-greeted?
I don't deny I've been
Morose or sulky, but
I hold despair a sin,
And I will tell you what:
If I give up, just yell
And give me proper hell.