Slot from Jabberwocky by whatever...

I've always wondered why you're never satisfied
until you find the proper slot to hold me,
as if some part of me depends on what you see,
as if I'm made by the words you attach to me.

Little label-name game you're calling,
narrow blind shows your mind is just as small.
Why this compulsive urge to pin me to the wall?
Words are nothing but words, after all.

Perhaps your need could be plain insecurity
mixed with a little bit of ignorant vanity.
You force a word on me and smile complacently,
happy that you'll never have to take the time
to get to know me.

I've always wondered why you're never satisfied
until you find the proper slot to hold me.
Learn to accept it, or leave me be.
It makes no difference to me,
and it won't change a thing.

• Punk
• pop punk
• punk pop
• socio-political
• Cleveland