A lot of words come out of their lips
And lot of those words you take as tips
To change, to force yourself to fit
Odd determination like a candle lit
You grew up in the box that was made
By other people’s hands; into them, you played
Glass walls blurred the outside view
So much that your inner world was askew
Kill the traitor, kill the fraud
Kill the one with ideas too broad
A little emotional, a little too sensitive
You wonder why that’s not the way to live
Dark halves on repeat, not the light
Because you think they might be right
You’re no angel, you’re no saint
Damn straight, your voice ain’t quaint
Photo: INDIAMART
