The Others

I'm getting sick
Of you calling it "chic"
To describe what is that I am
when I know that I'm damned,
cause I got no own place to go

I'm getting sick and tired
You say you know my kind
But I'm a one of a kind
I'm blind leading blind
Cause we got no own place to go

But we're the pounding of the drums
We're your next-door neighbour
You sure must have known
You got nowhere to go

The Others, O-oh-Oh!
The Others, O-oh-Oh!
The In-Lovers, Oh-oh-Oh!

I'm building an army of misplaced lovers
Known as "the others"