It seems to me that mankind are being controlled
by some unseen evil force...
Guitar, my canvas
Society is my paint...
I am--as perfect as perfection could ever be.
I am--the poster child of the Tabloids stories...
In this world of evil and hurt
We are made to believe that we are dirt...
Weapons of mass destruction are illegal
I remind you...
Aches and pains
every day is the same...
The cry has been heard
Women have wept enough...
Excuse her,
For her imperfections...
We walk down streets
stuffed with houses, rows and rows...
Many eyes staring at me today
Whats Wrong...
I'm sorry I'm not pretty.
I'm sorry I'm not thin...
A feather
Blows gently in the wind...