The line.

  The line.

The line was drawn long ago, and I am debating if I should cross it

I normally don’t mind to stand here alone in my own little world of weirdness

But now it feels different somehow, someway

I see all the people conformed and I feel utter sorrow

I can’t tell them apart, they all look the same

With a very slight change in smiles,

Why does society treat us this way just because we’re unique

The strangeness that lies inside me wants to be set free

But the world as we know it is fucked, I stand here alone

On the other side of the line that was drawn long ago

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