He walks the streets with headphones on,
A rhythm to his solitary song.
Mismatched socks, a rebel's stance,
In every glance, he's the odd one out, by chance.

He's the square peg in a round hole,
Dancing to the beat of his own soul.
In a world that's playing a different tune,
He's the man on the moon, out of sync, out of tune.

At the dinner table, silent screams,
Mismatched dreams, and frayed seams.
In the classroom, he's the ghost,
The one they see, but never the most.

He's got a funk rock heart in a cookie-cutter world,
A graffiti masterpiece, constantly unfurled.
They say he's out of line, but he's just undefined,
A spectrum of colors in a black and white mind.

He's the square peg in a round hole,
Dancing to the beat of his own soul.
In a world that's playing a different tune,
He's the man on the moon, out of sync, out of tune.