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The renditions are the same

Bland, severed and mundane

Yet they want everyone to be sane

Except there’s no conductor for the train

I jumped from the assembly line 

And lived a life full of divine

One that my own, where I shine

Where I can be myself, not charged a fine

But lately from my cloud

I sprinkle glitter flicked on my shroud

To cover those not too proud

Those who are imaginative, and say so loud

Yet it’s quiet in its embrace

Not a parade with music in one’s face

The design wasn’t crafted in a daze

No longer, for great, shall we chase.