Dreams of cashmere, Dreams of lace, the look of violence in your face. Dreams of money, and times gone by. The bullets fly and then you die. We watch the movies say, "Shoot to kill". The doctor says, "Just one little pill". They promised me life, clean and pure. From this bottle, my madness cure. A creature of the night am I. The sunlight's gleam hurts my eye. They say I'm different...weird, you see. Why can't they let me be me? I'm dying inside, suicide's not right. I will not change, it's time to fight. I'll not conform with your little pill. You have no right to change my will. You've told me of the riches that flow, of time ever endless, all "good" people know. You sold me a dream I cannot buy. You'll never understand why I cry. To your whims, I will not bend. Like the rowan in the forest, I'll stand again. And when you search history, looking for fame. You'll only find society's to blame.