Your eyes catch mine as you pass,
I know you think I'm second class.
I don't wear no make up and no gloss,
When it comes to fashion I am at a loss.

I don't own skirts, my jeans are faded.
I duck my head as I'm degraded.
By your eyes that pierce right through,
As if you think I'm less than you.

I don't have thousand friends to adore,
But I have few true ones and I need no more.
Together we laugh and sing and dance,
You would do well to give second class a chance.

But up there with your stuck-up girlfriend,
I know your smile to her is pretend.
You can't be who you are with someone who degrades you,
Always another that gets praised in you.

The friends, the glory, even the fame
Don't belong behind your name.
If you can't be who you truly are,
Second class people laugh at you from afar.

You may think we're ugly, even a bore.
But you know you've wished to be like us before.
To have a smile you really mean,
Not to care if you are a has-been.

It's not about the way we walk,
Or what we say when we talk.
It ain't about the things we wear,
that makes the first class people stare.

It's the way we live our life plainly,
That makes them act all insanely.
Jealousy is in their blood and veins,
They scream when they're outside and it rains.

Maybe their always-perfect hair,
Won't decay when they lose their flare.
Maybe the dress they wear tonight,
Will take away their sorrows and it'll be alright.

Maybe the prada, diamond shoes high,
Will be put up as historic when they die.
Maybe their fingernails be hanged and boarded,
Their desperate attempt at conversations recorded.

Or maybe all first class people are forgotten,
Long before their ego's have rotten.
Maybe they too are buried in sand,
Just like us from the second hand.

I'll never wear just to impress,
Then I'll rather be seen as less.
Stare all you want and look all you need,
I know you'd like to be part of my breed.











 
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