stray hairs and scruffy beards,
we're imperfect but parts of us are great.
the random sounds and funny faces we make.
you tap your fingers to the beat in your head
i color outside of the lines and spend the day in bed.
we aren't weird, and we aren't strange.
we're happier than the average joe
we live life, and that won't change.
laugh and cry and sing and die,
not all at once of course,
but we live life off the horse.
but life never knocked us down to start with,
we just jumped ship and started running.
figuratively of course,
we can't walk on water,
but we still float on air,
high as kite naturally
say, why should we care?
about the artistocrats
and the rule makers?
we smile brighter than any fakers.
we cry harder than any actor.
we love harder than any other.
we love each other.
so maybe we are still part of the system,
so maybe we don't fit into the quiet stuffy rooms.
we are weird, we are strange,
but we have more laughs
than a comedian could arrange.
bits of us are wrong,
but the rest of us is right,
perfect to a tee,
that they just couldn't get upright.