To all my oddballs and misfits,
The freaks and miscreants,
We, the untold deviants,
When told to be quiet,
Made our own society.
In the side rooms,
Back alley saloons,
Smoke-filled cellars
And jalopies.
I am with you.
We, the detritus.
We, the bottom feeders,
We, the seekers,
Know that truth often arises
From the most dreary of places.