It seems our disability makes you
A jackass and irrational--you run
In fear from difference and all that's true--
You try to fight the future like a Hun.
You run in fear from anything that's new--
You threaten all that changes with a gun
And anything we make you must undo--
You must make sure that all like us are none.
Our disability is in your eyes--
You're just as strange to us in all your fears
And hatred, worries, stress, and neediness.
It's truth and working hard that you despise
And then you say that we're the faulty gears
When history shows that we mostly bless.