There's a place I go frequently; I guess for a kind of therapy,
Sometimes there's too much weight on my shoulders,
There's a care center there for these certain people,
Everyone calls them "special people" - fact is, they're retarded.
Well, they walk by my therapy room, probably on the way to their therapy room, and I begin to notice how happy they all are,
They're happy as can be, oh, they're happier than me.
I used to think, "Oh, what a shame: going through life retarded, insane,"
But now I don't look at it quite that way.
They're so happy and loving, and free, surely they don't need therapy,
It's you and I that have to constantly see just how destructive knowledge can be,
These special people are special indeed.
I used to think, "Oh, what a shame: going through life retarded, insane,"
But now I don't look at it quite that way.
See, they're so happy and loving, and free, surely they don't need therapy,
It's you and I that have to constantly see just how destructive knowledge can be,
These special people are special indeed.
