A World of Our Own

Riding through hills, in valleys, by streams,
over hope and faith, and on top of dropped dreams
bumping alongs roads covered with history and dirt
we seem to be running on cheap gas and great hurt.
it all is quiet, we avoid eachother's eyes
the windows are tinted and we can't see the skies.
we know where we're going, we know why, too
we know we're the Judged One's, the demented youth.
we know what we're called behind backs and in faces,
we know we're looked down on and we know where our place is
we know we're the friends you shouldn't take home
we know how it feels to be seperate and alone
we're taken way out, away from the rest,
the result of the publics fear and detest
we live in a category of one large magnitude
but to us, we're just dying in eternal solitude.