For the outcasts

It was the melody of being outside and being alien
A floor, four walls and roof
A box to small to hide in
The pulse that runs though everything
Thunder storms with no could covering
Forcing you to see just how strange you are
In a world of clean and cut
Nothing new
Nothing old
Strangers with strange ways don't pass though
Yet it seems half of us are stuck
Strangers in strange places
Left to be loners
Alienated
With sticks and stones and hate full words
To brake are bones and tare holes in are souls
So we rome on circle rodes
Waiting for humanity to see
The alien that lives with in us all