We were the rejected,
The ones with only sounds to offer
Barrels of emptiness
Merchandise of nothing but noise
We were the rejected,
We with eyes for what thorns existed with the rose
We the florists of reality
Merchandise trampled in the mud
We were the rejected,
The ones with the tools to change world
Filled with distinct and alien skill sets
Are doomed to be outcasts for the rest of our lives
