A man decides after seventy years

That's what he goes there for, is to unlock the door

While those around him criticize and sleep

And through a fractal on a breaking wall,

I see you my friend, and touch your face again,

Miracles will happen as we dream

(Chorus)

But we're never gonna survive unless

We get a little crazy

No we're never gonna survive

Unless, we get a little

Crazy yellow people walking through my head

One of them's got a gun, shoot the other one

And yet together they were friends at school

Oh get it, get it, get it, no no no!

If I were there when we first took the pill

Then maybe, then maybe, then maybe, then maybe

Miracles will happen as we speak.

Crazy…

No, no we'll never survive, unless we get a little…bit…

In a sky full of people, only some want to fly isn't that crazy?

In a world full of people, only some want to fly isn't that crazy?

Crazy…

In a heaven of people there's only some want to fly

Isn't that crazy…crazy…crazy…

(Chorus)

Crazy…

No, no we'll never survive, unless we get a little…bit….

-Alanis Morisette

People think I'm simple. They think of me as that girl, that musician of the Gorillaz, that guitarist….you know the one that got blown up on that windmill island, ignorant people.

They have no idea what goes on in my head…what really goes on. To them, they think being a musician's fun and games…well they're wrong. It's hard work.

Try being the one carrying the weight around here while your leader gets arrested in Mexico doing something illegal and stupid, and having to write all the songs afterwards.

I wrote them. Do I get credit? Yes…but it feels empty afterwards.

Everything about my life is empty.

My fans don't know how lucky they are not to be me…why should they like me? I'm thin, bony and have big gorilla hands that stick out on my little wrists giving me the impression of Gollum. Let's face it, I'm no supermodel.

The only impressions I give of being a model is a high tech agent from the government, and believe me I was better off not knowing who I was because now that I remember, everything's taken out on life.

My fans don't know what to think of me…my friends don't know what to think of me…Murdoc just wants me for my own demise…he's determined to find out how I work.

The guys

Yeah…Murdoc's always there for me, he was there when he caught me cutting my own wrists one time, blood was all over my bed sheets and notebook, and he immediately called paramedics.

People thought I was crazy…I was trying to attempt suicide, stupid tabloids.

I was just bored that day and I wanted to see what blood really looks like when I'm hurt…it didn't even hurt when I cut the skin, Murdoc however did not find this amusing.

He told me that he couldn't afford to let me cut myself, if he lost another guitarist there would be no more future for Gorillaz. Does he really think I care about that? All he thinks about is our stupid popularity, I love our band but I think I'm living a lie here staying with them…the band I mean. Murdoc and the guys think I'm just going through a phase right now, this whole misery thing. But I've been feeling like this since I got here all these years ago.

When I was little, I was able to hide it, but now that I'm older those feelings found another way out: through poetry and my bleeding wrists. I don't know why I'm like this, it's just how I am.

I cry at night...every night, whenever I listen to those songs on the radio reminding me of my empty heart. They don't understand, nobody does.

I have no friends, I have no life...sometimes...I wish I were dead. I close my eyes...I imagine a stage...everyone's cheering and calling my name...begging for an encore...I smile and wave at them.

I play a song...a sad sweet song for them on my guitar...everyone quiets down as soon as I start...then I begin to sing in a quiet voice, to the tune of Alanis Morisette:

An old man turned 98

he won the lottery and died the next day

it's a black fly in your chardonnay

a death row pardon two minutes too late

I look up and smile at the crowd and say: and isn't it ironic, don't you think

And then I scream the chorus where everyone starts to roar and cheer as I turn it up full blast...I feel alive...I feel the whole song come to me...as I never felt before.

...and who would've thought, it figures

But then the moment's gone...I wake up and find myself in my room, damn...only a dream. I really felt the weight hit me hard, pressing against my heart like it's ready to burst. I can't breathe, my hand reaches for the knife on the bedside table and I quickly cut a deep one into my wrist.

It feels so good putting one against my skin, the blood seeping out a deep red color...I lick my lips in satisfaction and do it again...My hands feel clammy afterwards once I put it back down and I shiver again staring at my bloodstained wrists.

No one can ever know my vulnerability, not even the band...for if they did they'd send me to the nuthouse and get me a psychiatrist to talk about my feelings...there's nothing to say...I'm just confused...and angry with myself...and I think it's time to change all that...

Just then, the door opens and 2D walks in on me with widened black orbs when he spots my wrists then the knife..."Love...wot are yo doing to yourself?" he asks me as if I knew the answer to the question.

I stare at the knife on the table, guilty...then at my wrists, then I break down. "I don't know 2D", I wail burying my face in my hands where blood continued to spill out..."I don't know". I hated seeing him cry like this...it hurts me when I see 2D sad...for me...but I can't help it, if only they knew what I'm going through, I wouldn't be doing this.

If only they knew that...I wouldn't be here. I want to suffer...I want to torment myself...I want to see my blood...I want to be alone like I always have been in the past, and just die...instead, I end up here...at this white room of solitary...with these people watching my every move...waiting for me to screw up...