We stay in our cliques,
Because it’s where we fit.
Whether it’s the dirty chicks or the hicks,
We all are something to someone.

It’s called a label.
They say they’re judging us on who we really are,
But why did they go that far?

They’re only making us more noticeable—
They’re only telling a fable.

They don’t know the truth,
But they think they have proof.

Honestly, they have what everyone else tells them.
But do they really even know them?

We fight and yell,
But, hell,
Why are they not friends with someone?
Because of the way they dress?

Who do we have to impress?

No one…

Change the cliques,
Hangout with the hicks,
The preps and the jocks,
The stoners and the loners,
The emos, skaters, and even the gangsters.

Don’t judge others—
Be true to yourself first.