When the house is asleep in the deep of the night, that is when I cry.
They don't understand because they aren't one of my kind
A reject of the default,
the broken inside.
So hurt and useless in a world so small We wonder if anyone cares at all
Our plea is the same lead us out of this hole they've dug for us
Our souls are empty knickknacks sitting on a forlorn shelf  
Waiting for someone to love us and pick us up from this hell
I see a distant wish granted though it will be too long
So read what I write
this empty hopeless song
for when the house is asleep in the deep of the night, that is when I die.