All around somebody else's pad,
You stumble as you chase the latest fad.
Don't look confused with all the things you find.
Just wait until the crowd makes up your mind.

CHORUS: Coming back repeating every word,
Repeating all the things you overheard,
The bandwagons rumble past. I sit here on the curb,
And like an echo, you are like unto a mockingbird.

As long as you can sing their style of song,
Pasted on your face a sickly grin,
Hoping that someone will say you're in.

Dark eyes shifting round take in a lot,
Noting who is here and then who's not.
Careful that you keep your standing clear
Away from those with whom you can't be seen.

Here lately you don't speak or even look
Because my name's not written in their book,
But if they turn my different ways to see,
You'd be the first to proudly stand by me. CHORUS