Young Writers Society

This is like Oblivion because nobody knows you
This is like an orphanage no real home to go to
Its like Antarctica, its harsh and its cold too
Like paper in art class there's people trying to fold you
Lifeless, staring down the barrel of a gun
Because i don't see the point like staring at the sun
Life is like a normal class its not very fun
Thinking celibacy like a monk or a nun
People think its all adventures but its far from Tom Sawyer
People back stab and lie to you like lawyers
Hypocrites making promises they can't keep
Feel like Tyrese but beyond Waist Deep
Yin or Yang which has more ground
Sanity on milk cartons because it can't be found
Eventually I'll fade back, dead inside a car trunk
And all will forget like the last time they were drunk