I look up when they look ahead, I question when they just accept, I walk alone and they throw stones, they call me a hater because I see things differently, they’re not even aware they‘re the ones hating when they rain on my parade, hasn’t it always been the way that if you stand out from the crowd, you are judged, if not condemned? Popular and majority are not synonyms of quality, my opinions are not invalid just because they’re not shared by the many. It’s kinda lucky I don’t really give a shit what they think, for the lone wolves always find each other and pass that vodka bottle around, wanting nothing but profound, and meaning, and feelings, while the sheep never dream in their never-ending sleep.
I can’t deny
but I’d rather
than be empty
I’d rather be
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