All the same

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They’re all the same
Everybody is the same

I close my eyes and see you in front of me
You’re looking the other way, at something I can’t see
I thought you might be her, since I recognize your dress
Maybe it’s just all one big unconscious process

Some days ago I saw you walking down the street
It was your hair, I’m sure, and I shouted a greet
But when I got no reaction, I realized it wasn’t you
Just somebody who happened to have the same hairdo

I’m in a party surrounded by people but I feel alone
The people around me all look like one another’s clone
It’s me who is the weirdo in this queer wingding
Without that haircut, dress, and nosering

All my friends are not originating from this place
But some of them have seemed to have found a new base
Even me I’ve got some comments that I’ve adapted my style
But then again it’s quite hard not to adapt to the surrounding lifestyle

Why is it that we need to look so much the same
As if the one who left is the same as the one who came
Why can’t se all just be independent subjects
Instead of machine-like pre-fabricated objects

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