by Bay Sweetwater
See that guitar player there? They say he’s just a dreamer.
And that girl having visions? Just too out of touch.
See that guy who turns his cheek? Just a troublemaker.
And that old guy with frizzy hair? He won’t amount to much.
O Robot, dry your tears, don’t listen to what THEY say.
No one at this party’s seeing clearly; it’s all a swirl
Of smoke and mirrors; no one sees into your soul;
They only see your steel and wires, though you might just save the world.