All these people, they stare at me;
They aren’t my equal, but I’m no good:
I want to run far away, but cannot feel my legs;
And if there were a finch, I’d keep it if I could.
All these people, they make me insecure;
I cannot keep my mind on what I have to do
If everyone and everything hurts, and there’s no cure.
If only I had a single place; but one happy thing.
All these people don’t make any sense;
I’d rather talk to rust forming on a fence.
They prefer to lie about every little thing,
But that makes understanding hard to outward bring.
I wish that all these people would just give the shit a rest;
That way I’d find a way to love, and not life protest.