I live in a classy home, with classy things and classy folk. With o.j. and toast and some eggs without the yolk. A small family get together were no one spoke. With them just staring hoping you'll choke. Seeing all of you're flaws and fears and just poke, poke, poke until i broke. I sit there pretending they all are saying hilarious jokes. Making sure I let a gentle smile out so I don't provoke. Then it all fails when my mother tells them I smoke. To them she's perfect since she gossips as soon as she awoke. Once again no one pays attention or care as I spoke. Sitting here once again hated in my classy home.*