Fences make for good neighbors,
Slabs of wood painted bright white
And it’s my world that it holds
I used to believe in an open free for all
Hippies caressing under a sweltering sun in the red mud
I called that love
Telling unsafe people my secrets
And contorting myself to appease the un-appeasable
It didn’t work
Just made me tired really
Maybe it was the way I was raised
But I’m tired of pointing my finger out
Because all I gotta do
Is build a good fence
This is my world, not anyone else’s
I decide what comes into my little paradise.