Sitting here in a fruit basket,
Waiting for the warmth of human hands
I get picked up but then tossed back in
tumbling but then I finally land
No one wants me
Not even the people with dirty hands
What's wrong with me
Is it my color, my stem
Is it this fruit that I am
everyone's getting chosen
But I'm still here
Four fruits left
Three fruits left
Two fruits lefts
Then only me he
I guess I'm not good enough
and was meant to be lonely
Hopw u like