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What is "Normal," Anyway?
What is "normal," anyway?
What is spending a lifetime
Drifting from day to day?
What is plastering a painted smile on your face
Every morning?
(Make sure you superglue it on--
You wouldn't want anyone to see through the façade,
Right?)
What is "normal," anyway?
Is it being placated by promises of
Boob jobs and Lamborghinis and
Money?
Is it being okay with being run over
By big-bellied charlatans
Who exploit you by saying,
"Change is coming, just you wait!"
Is it having the right occupation?
(God forbid you should become a writer or philosopher--
Jesus Christ! Is this what you did with
Your Ivy League education?)
Is it living in the right home with
The right spouse with
The right number of kids?
(Hint: it's more than one but less than five--
I mean, you do want to go the Caribbean this year,
Don't you?)
Well, I don't want to exist,
I want to live.
This mask's grown awfully tight
And as I scratch and pull and what
I'm told to be,
I see past the fancy houses and perfect family.
I see everything
And yet I see nothing at all.
Because "normal" is a lie.
Because "normal" is the only way.
Because "normal" is so superficial.
Because "normal"
Isn't
Me.
