From day to day, everyone seems to be a bit off,
Some sort of people seem to be the same,
All the time doing whatever is popular enough,
Looking for a political or religious symbol to blame.

It's not true to me, it doesn't have to be,
It can be true to you, I won't make you see
My light the way I must believe your god is true...

Me? I'm trying to make sense of all of this,
Why with one little prayer a man can be pure,
Somehow his imagination sent us to hell, we are fewer,
I tell you it's not right, and you label me an evil-doer.

A superstitious lot, aren't we all? Everywhere I go
I hear all of these people have saved us from hell,
From temptation in this boring, ******* up society,
I don't think they know how to make a change, a copy
Of a copy is still a copy, but me? I'm born to live free,
I can see, but I wouldn't give it up, even if I would be godly,
I would rather grow up to be the same old unique me...