Everything is quiet and bleak.
It’s all gray skies, and nothing unique.
The town is filled with boring faces,
Many different people, but very few races.
Ah, yes, such a boring little town,
And yet, I feel no reason to leave this place.
My store, ever so quiet, the church so empty.
And yet, I can’t make myself hate the solemn pace.
These skies, whose gray clouds shields my eyes,
The familiar people and their familiar lies,
It’s all me, and I am all of them.
No one is different, odd, or corrupted by sin.
I see the other town, just over the fence,
The people are different, the people are strange.
They do things in a way that I could never understand.
They treat life as if it’s some sort of game.
The sing and they dance and their sky is blue.
I can’t understand, it’s not what I’m used to.
I’ll keep my gray sky, my boring face and dreary town.
I’ll forever shield my eyes, and keep my head down.