A song of depressed autistic man

You can call this a song of depressed autistic man. Doesn’t matter if you do, I’m just saying that you can. And the lyrics are bad, but at least they’ll be telling truth. I might sound as an old man, but I’ve never had the youth. And I keep on pretending that I’m one of you. But it happens to be that it isn’t really true. So I guess you are waiting for something like chores in here. But there’s gonna be none, ‘cause I couldn’t make them appear. And I guess only few people will ever hear this song. And I guess even fewer decide to sing along. And I keep on pretending that I’m one of you. But it happens to be that it isn’t really true. So I know, I’m no Bob Dylan, but I’m trying to rhyme some shit. And I have a pretty sad story behind my back, but who gives a fuck about it? I’m no man in a long black coat, I can’t change your fate. But if you feel depressed as me, I can say: let’s go on a date. And I keep on pretending that I’m one