You can't understand someone else's view

Until you spend a day in their shoes,

But you're always told to be yourself

Because everyone else is already taken.

If the shoe fits, then wear it,

But what if it isn't really yours?

Each person has their own song

Yet you shouldn't toot your own horn,

And beating your own drum is frowned upon

To the point that the drummer's gotta go.

But supposing that you're tone deaf,

How do you find your place in the song?

We are all threads in the cloth of life,

All dyed a different color;

Woven together to tell a story

And serve a practical purpose.

But when the Fates cut your thread,

Will the whole cloth unravel?

When it's the end of the world as we know it,

We'll all be blamed for starting the fire

And the philosophers and masked do-gooders

Will still be standing on their soap boxes.
But when judgement day calls for sincerity,

Who will you really be?