Rings around the rosy cheeks

Are for the sickly and frail.

Books are for the shunned nerds and geeks.

Oh, the hopeless are thrown into jail

Along with the rejected Freaks.

How, oh how the forgotten wail

And mourn the deafness as they speak.

I beg you, I tell you I speak no twisted tale,

This is reality, not one for the weak.

People like us are left with the dregs

Of the upper-class perfections.

People like us are left to sit on the side of the street and beg

As the Perfect and Pretty People enjoy their tasty confections.

Incarceration is the punishment for being unsightly

Or gay, or smart,

Or just the unlucky.

Incarceration is the punishment for people like us,

But it is a haven, safety, prosperity.