Look around the room
They're like a group of puppets
Controlled by one hand
They dress the same, and act the same
And its a personality they lack

But then there's the few
That cut the strings and walk on their by themselves
They're the misfits, the "freaks"
With a mind of their own

But who is it to judge, what's normal and whats not?
It's like you need to be a clone to be accepted
But nobody is perfect, so who do we copy?
Why can't we decide how to act without fearing rejection
People are so cruel, and unexcepting of differences
Its almost a sin to be unique




 
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