I was born a rebel,
perhaps you see me as the devil –
just a kid who doesn’t fit
in your self-made world of hypocrites.
You see only the way I dress and flout;
thing is - I’d never, ever sell out,
not for money, nor fame –
I wonder; can you say the same?
My soul for sale – just ain’t,
perhaps I’m neither rebel nor saint;
just a simple teen;
who is maybe something in-between?