There's a sickness in society
It's called sexuality
Where everyone wants to reach out and touch
And choose what they want
Who they want
What label they want
And with every touch it seems to spead
Homosexual, Heterosexual, Maybe Bi

But they reach out and touch and claw
And my skin cries out
Not for touch or love or lust
But for some kind of kin
That's been just as untouched as me
Because I feel sick
But not sick in my lips or my stomach or legs
I feel sick in my mind and my skin
Because not to have lust has been turned into a sin

I'm not sick in the way I'm supposed to
I'm ill and untouched
No one wants to be around me
It's like I have leprosy
Or maybe they do want a touch
Because I'm not contagious
But they hope they will be

I haven't changed, though
I'm still just me
Just as lacking and terrified
And just as I always will be.