Derided scornfully for our clowning
Put into our place for our goof-ups.

It is they who decide our disposition
It is they who shape our destiny.

Our laughs are a pollution in noise
Our peals are a discordance in rhythm.

We dare to abuse ourselves for love
They care to soak themselves in self-denial.

Us, we would blissfully die for who we love
Them, they would regretfully live with who they reproach

In ironies, they judge that our folk be insane
In sarcasm, they delude that their ilk be sane.

Huddled, our freedom is what they yank off
Rightfully, they create sanatatoria for us.

Bliss as we are, walls apart
The world is better off without them.