The lost

Being homeless and misplaced is a hard thing to bear,
Everyone's warm in their houses, they don't really care,
So, you wander the streets, you aimlessly roam,
Knowing that you have nowhere to call home.

It gets colder; so you find somewhere to sit,
And watch the world, pass by you
Into which you don't fit,
You're an outsider, a stranger, you don't belong,
In this world where you daring to exist is wrong.

People, who see you, assume you're on drugs
Or just another teenager never shown love,
It's hard to be on the outside looking in,
On a world so dirty, corrupt, full of sin,
All the while though, you are laughing inside,
For while these people struggle on, you will survive.

You're stronger than them with their cars, their careers,
their Prada shoes and holidays in the Belvederes,
You don't have to worry about what people think
Cos you're not one of them, while you swim they sink,

you can see their faults and not judge them,
While they are blind, and living just to pretend
that their lives have some sort of purpose, a meaning,
This false hope is their crutch, upon which they are leaning,

For if these people knew the truth, that their world is a lie,
That there are people like us who are lost and can't try
We don't match their ideals; we're the lost children,
The ones banished from their garden of Eden.

We are happy with our lot though; we don't need their lives,
We're not overthrowing their system; just watching its demise,
We have united as one and together we will stand,
For we have finally found OUR promised land.