Now I do nothing but slack
I'm not feeling too grand
I don't know if I should come back
When no one truly understands
I need time to sleep
For my heart is made of stone
I've always been the black sheep
And always been on my own
I straighten up my bow tie
And think what I've done wrong
Then I sit and start to cry
And wonder where I belong
Do I have a purpose?
Am I really free?
Because now I feel worthless
And just want to be me
Time to fly?
Or time to die?
