people are strange, when you're a stranger.

faces look ugly, when you're alone.
 

 women seem wicked, when you're not wanted.

 streets seem uneven, when you're down.

 when you're strange, no one remembers your name.

when you're strange, faces come out of the rain.
 

i always thought other people were strange. then i found out, i was strange. i wanted to fit in, and the more i tried, the stranger i got, and the stranger they got. i laugh about it now,ha, but it's an inside laugh, a nervous laugh.
 

i don't want to be normal anymore. i just want to be solidary with myself. but i'm still figuring who i am.
 

i been so long, feeling lonely and strange, fierce and shamed and proud. i guess that's who 
i am.  
strange.