I conclude they have some kind of spyglass
It lets them see just what they want to see
It is some kind of refractive device
That so distorts their perception of me
Ah! Perception, perception, perception
It\'s everything and nothing absurdly
Theirs puts me somewhere I am not, or worse
Missing from where they believe I should be
With their minds made up - they always know best
Come watch me in the prison of their game
Hard walls of their smiles; fooling the rest
Seeing their blind jury put me to blame
And so Lo and behold I will trip up
Its exactly what us mortals will do
And they on high with their godlike spyglass
Can claim - without bias - they always knew
And then I\'ll ask of myself; self doubting
What it is in me that alters their view
Dresses me as a clown in their minefield
And so makes all their predictions come true
Don\'t they see me when I am trapezing
Without netting to save me - to belong
No, no, I suppose that never happens
And their spyglass? Well it couldn\'t be wrong.