He was never liked by his peers
He always wore plaid
He didn't have a mate in sight
He thought his surrounding a bit pale.
She was adored by all who saw her
She wore poke-a-dots
She had many suitors but none seem to stick
She thought her surroundings were bright.
We weren't voted prom King/Queen, but knew we're of Royal Stock.
We didn't match our clothes, our hearts were enough
We knew we were the envy of the flock, yet always flew our own way
We know they'll never understand our dying together, but who give's two shits?
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