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.