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The CrowdThe crowd told me to wear a skirtI wore my spiky shortsThe crowd told me "keep to yourself"But I express my thoughtsThe crowd told me to have blonde hairI dyed it blue and pinkThe crowd told me to watch TVI chose instead to thinkThe crowd told me to like dubstepI listen to The CureThe crowd told me to drink cows' milkBut I don't see what forThe crowd told me to say I'm straightBut that's only half trueThe crowd told me to have a babyBut I don't want toNow the crowd are closing inCalling me a freakNow the crowd want me to conformI'm too tongue-in-cheekNow the crowd hate my differencesI don't think I careNow the crowd are sick of meAnd these strange clothes I wearNow I'm looking for someoneThat feels the same as meNow I'm looking for someoneWho wants to feel more freeNow I'm looking for someoneWho's strange and kind and trueNow I'm looking for someoneBut is that someone you?
Her GripBreathing is ragged.Head is spinning.You run faster and faster,but you know she's winning.As she closes the distanceher voice becomes clear,whispering your secrets,and your darkest of fears.Your energy is waning,and she's only getting faster,and you know without a question,this will end in disaster,Suddenly there's a grip on your arm,It's stubborn and strong.It's all over now.It's all going wrong.