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Stop
Stop trying to influence me with your absurd suggestions,
Stop supplying me with unwieldy corrections.
I’m not in one of your cliques or trends,
I’m me and I refuse to bend.
Jock, faggot, Goth or geek,
You won’t drag me in without a squeak
I’ve had enough of you stoners,
Why do the sight of pills give you people boners?
Whining about, ‘life is so bad’
What the fuck makes you people so sad?
Goths are overcome grief,
They don’t deserve a head full of teeth.
I guess what I’m; trying to say is I’ve had enough of these cliques,
prep or loser so fucking full of tricks.
Who fed you, these meaningless thoughts?
A world full of mindless robots.
Who said that, we’re all created equal?
The next person is, the last persons sequel.
Drugs, skirts, even dyed black hair,
Who did this, I am not aware,
The knees of their jeans, were you’ll find a tear.
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