I grew up in a big clan, small town in the heartland.
Was the third of ten kids, good Irish Catholic.
We went to school down at ol' St Joe's, we had catechism with the nums in the robes.
They took their chalk and drew our souls, boxes full of sins on the big blackboard.
Sometimes, some people try so hard.
To put us in a box, and tell us that's who we are.
Well I'm not, no no I'm not.
I am more than what they see. I am one more mystery.
Oh please, don't put me in a box.
I'm a whole lot more than these arms and legs, hands or feet or whiskered face.
A while lot more than my family tree, or where I'm from or the friends I keep.
I went down to the bank to ge me a loan. The man at the desk said to fill out the form.
Your name, your age, your job, your pay, your whole life story on one small page.
Will I dreamt myself a dream last night. I dreamt the gates of heaven were open wide.
Ol' St. Peter was holdin' a sign. He said there aint no boxes allowed inside.
So when I got up, I got to thinkin'. Maybe ol' St. Peter, he wasn't kidin'. Maybe it's time I lit a match. Burn my boxes, and never look back.
Sometimes, some of us try so hard, to hold onto our boxes that tell us that's who we are.
Well I'm not, no, no, I'm not.
I am more than what they see. I am one big mystery.
Oh please, please, don't put me in a box.
Don't put me in a white box.
Don't put me in a black box.
Don't put me in a straight box.
Dont' put me in some gay box.
Don't put me in a rich box, poor box, young box, old box.
Smart box, stupid box, left box, right box.
Red, white, and blue box.
Please don't put me in a box.