Id grown a fringe to shut off pineal gland
As passive person jostled by the crowd
The root Id rather never understand
The autist artist anxious cries out loud
Third eye thing pure of which Im proper proud
If strong in prophecy then steeped in risk
Id rather rig a cool outcome in shroud
Id rather work through ready options brisk
The characters in spectrum sit at disc
The last thats born a baby good as runt
Im someone patient pixies plan to whisk
Im starved of character Im bleating blunt
Yet freaks ourselves are dime a dozen made
Youre much as me of baby sibling grade
Chorus made created formed
