They ask me,what is it like to be crazy?
I'm sorry,you must have mistaken me,because I'm not crazy.
Manic?Yes, sometimes I can be manic.Depressed?Yes.Panic?Oh yes, I've panicked.
But crazy,not yet,not me.
You must be crazy.Do you feel me?I feel freely.
So when the drums beat,so, too, does my heart beat.And when the babies cry,so do my eyes cry.
So, yes,when I walk down the streetI feel depressed if I see a friend reduced to begs,and I feel alive when I see children playing and singing.
And yes,sometimes I crywhen the world moves too fast.
And yes,when the moonbeamsdance so perfectly on my chest,I feel bold.
If that's crazy,then I am crazy.
But, tell me, who's crazy-The one with or withoutthe audacity to live?