Two little daughters, exactly the same,

One named Lisa, the other Shane,

Were born into this world on a cold, cold night,

Filling their mother with delight.

16 years young, herself yet a child,

mummy dearest was rebellious and wild.

Spared from the state by their mother,

Shane and Lisa shared a room with each other.

The years flew by, loses and wins,

Momma grew up and so did her twins.

She had dropped out, it was too intense,

So when her babies got to high school, the pleasure was immense.

But as they grew up, it became quite clear,

Lisa was popular and born to cheer

While Shane was a punk who lived to rock,

She always ran away and despised the jocks.

Neither was prettier, faster or stronger,

But Lisa was like sunshine, Shane was like thunder.

So Lisa climbed to the top of the ladder,

Leaving Shane at the bottom like she didn’t matter.

Shane was upset, but didn’t really care,

She liked her strange friends and multi-colored hair.

She liked her music loud and didn’t care for top 40,

She and her friends were not the majority.

Shane liked to party and so did Lisa,

But at different places with different people.

Shane liked her parties hoppin’ and wild,

While Lisa liked her gatherings a bit more mild.

Shane’s friends respected her for who she was,

And never really asked her to do drugs.

Lisa’s friends, however, thought it was cool,

And got her to try them one day after school.

Lisa was hooked, she couldn’t stop,

She played with her life and evaded the cops.

Deep in her heart, she knew it wasn’t right,

But she couldn’t make her mind see the light.

On her way to a party, Lisa bought a dose

Of her latest addiction, a thing called coke.

She swallowed it down and went to the party

Without a second thought to what was in her body.

Halfway through the party, Lisa fell ill,

She had a headache and took a pill.

She was in the yard, getting some air,

When a tremor took her body, was too hard to bare.

She went down on the grass, moaning in pain,

And was out cold before she could moan again.

Her breath was a tiny plume of air,

Her form so small no one noticed her there.

When she was found, she hadn’t breathed in hours,

She looked so cold among the dead flowers.

An overdose or poison had ended her life,

Snuffed out a soul on that cold, cold night.

So what’s the different, between popular and non?

What makes them better than plain old John?

Sister against sister, friend against friend,

It makes no difference in the end.

Sometimes the lame ones are the most wise,

Sometimes the cool ones are the most blind.

So pick your friends wisely, watch what you do,

Or else this just might happen to you.

So what’s the deal, you demand to know.

What’s the reason they run the show?

As always, that answer is simple, I say.

There is no difference, it’s all a mind game.