We are outcasts
Children born into dark
We listen to music that relates to us
We try to stand up and make our mark

Everyone thinks we cut
Or that we are depressed
They joke around and say mean things
Think we worship Satan and try to bless

But that's not who we are
That's not all we do
We cry, and laugh
We can love too

Yes, we may cut
And we may want to cry
But all you think we do is
Wish that we could die