A Collage Of Our New Race

Little bits of pictures,
Hanging on the wall,
Just to help explain,
What happened to it all,
A hundred million pieces,
Of our depressing life,
I didnt use my scissors,
I cut them with a knife,
Thousands of those pictures,
Perfectly in place,
They describe our origin,
Our uniquley crafted race,
Hundreds of us thrive,
On what other call lost will,
But that doesnt help us live,
And it doesnt pay the bills,
We act like we dont care,
About what other people think,
But actually we crave,
To be another link,
Another link inside their chain,
Of probability,
Filled with their protection,
And some stability,
But we just dont belong,
On their chain of friends,
Cause they may shrivel up and die,
But our race never ends...