Insane Indeed
I know your secret and you know mine,
But what we don't share another must find.
So come clean, and let me hear your thoughts aloud . . .
And I'll tell you mine as we lie on the clouds.
Insane? Yes, insane indeed.
But the fact I admit it is what you should heed.
We all may try and try again.
But to try one final time, and once again,
Our repetitive efforts are what bring us to pretend.
To pretend all is real and all is right.
To pretend morning is day and evening is night.
To pretend to succeed and to pretend to fight.
But when it comes down to it, our efforts amount to nothing, right?
For we all shall live, but we all shall die.
We all shall smile, but we all shall cry.
We all shall be judged, but judged poorly once.
We all shall be loved, but hated by one.
But in the end our destination is chosen based on balance, you see?
Because in the beginning we were dreamers,
And hopers, amidst the wonder.
But in the end we were questioning the sound of the thunder.
And the look of lightning in a slave's eyes.
Or the spark of thought we see in the night skies.
So all in all, we are not day or night,
We are not up or down,
We are not left or right.
We are but gray, stuck in the middle till the end.
Till the clock stops ticking, till we all make amends.
But not everyone forgave, or forgot to forget . . .
So there were some who died, and some who lived only in fret,
The neutral ones though, they all just ran.
But three is an odd number, with three types of man . . .
The rough ones, the ones who soften,
And the insane ones, yes we . . . we shall not be forgotten.
Cr155 Cr055
Written: December 12 to 13, 2010
Time: 11:27 PM to 12:12 AM