There’s a sort of funny way about you;
How you laugh under your breath at your own jokes,
and how you always share your really silly ones.

There’s a sort of strange way about you;
How you’re always there but never present,
and how you’re lonely even when we’re in the room.

And people say, “There’s something wrong about him;
he’s weird. He tunes out the world,
and he jumps around in his private wonderland.”

There’s a sort of beautiful way about you;
How you take whatever I or anybody throws at you,
and how you continue to love with the entirety of your heart.

But lately you’ve lost that way about you;
Now you’re self-concerned in your misery,
and now you torture yourself in your private wonderland.

You are estranged and apart from everybody,
besides the people and thoughts locked in your mind,
but I can hear you screaming the words that you mumble.

It is as if you are pleading with yourself, “Let me out!
Let me out of this wonderland which has become so cold and morbid!”
But you have lost that way about you that ever made you shout.