You stand on the outsides

But always facing in.

Pointing fingers at the commoners

Laughing at our childish din.


You say we know not

Of what beauty lies beyond the walls.

But how much of it can you have seen

When it is us your eye draws?


And under the sound of your laughter

And the hiss of your ridicules

Is the sound of our song

And the beauty of our world.


You think it common place

You think it trivial

You think you’ve found something better

You think you’re superior.


But I’d rather be common

With common heart and common dreams

Than be someone like you

Too busy ridiculing

To see beauty in all of these common things.