Outside
Some tread their path so proudly
You trip over strings you can't see
Once again the same old circles, you can't get away
You've dreamed how it would be somewhere else
They whisper after you: Poor thing
Can't find its place
Is outside again
But nobody does your part better than you do
Who looks with pitying eyes, just grows older
And nobody returns, once you go
You bear your wreathe smiling proudly
Hatingly they look upon you when you're seeing a dream
Pitying, heads turn your way
There's a crazy one sleeping in our way, take it away
I guess the fallen one could wander in his hiding place
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