Lyrics

Everywhere I look
I see something else
Telling me how to be
Something but myself

Everywhere I listen
I hear the flying words
In and out of angry heads
I'd much rather be listening to the flying birds

Is there a place?
I don't know
Is there a place that I can go?
What happened to this small, small world?

Somethimes I think
That I am trapped
Like in a comic strip
Is there someway out the back?

I put on my clothes
Ane everyday go out
And I know to make the best of it
But there always seems to be some kind of doubt.