People aren't as you think
What's black ain't black, what's pink ain't pink,
Beneath the surface it's dark and murky,
What seems simple is odd and quirky

If you see mud, that might be a gem
Hiding beneath the sloth and phlegm,
Silver that shines is ofttimes plate
On nickel 'n zinc and other dead-weight

But dig beneath that dark interior
That hides beneath the glinting exterior
You might discover sommat superior
Unsurpass'd gold that shouts 'Exclesior'.

So don't be quick to adjudicate
Oft as not we don't see straight
You and me, we're not as we think
Our slime is gold, and our jewels stink