Kallocain

You are different they are right, you are different from their kind They can not hear the sounds that are music to you, my blue eyed son They can not see the light that will guide you on the paths that they dream about when walking there in line their minds are occupied Oh the hooves of the herd 'gainst the ground And it hurts me more than Kallocain Yes hurts me more than Kallocain to know that there's room for such loneliness in your little chest Truth as hurtful as the headsman's blade I am torn to pieces watching you drift away On my shoulders some more miles If I could I would carry you for the rest of my life In your eyes I'm the sycamore But I'm a ground birch kid, but wood for fuel to keep you warm You're a pyro in the night Still freezing when not allowed to sit around their fire And it hurts me more than Kallocain Yes hurts me more than Kallocain to know that there's room for such loneliness in your little chest