Sorry, the last song was after a little songfic writers block
Disclaimer: Song is Natasha Bedingfield's "We're All Mad"
A/N: Try not to picture the cartoon Harley in this. For some reason I picture her with dark red hair and dark eyes. But that's just me.
Oh, I think the lady did protest too much
She wouldn't take the flower from my hand
They wouldn't understand why she still loves him. After all, his turn-on is abusing her, drawing blood. As long as he can perform the stitches, its all fine, in his world.
She only saw the shadow of my circumstance
Perception can describe what makes a man
She has to admit her world is a little fantastical --if not fanatical. On the edge is not a good idea. Especially if you fall for a person like him. Too late now, she's already his, she's got her very own homemade tatoos to prove it.
I didn't mean to interrupt your stride
But a rose was all I had to give
Sometimes he doesn't understand her spontanaity. Even though he goes with the tide, floating your boat still requires something of a plan, and so her sudden ideas sometimes, well, she can just say they don't go over well.
Sometimes beauty isn't recognised
When it contrasts with what you feel inside
He probably doesn't care who she really is, but she doesn't know who he really is either. This newest thing he's pulling off with dissociation is so new, she gets unnerved when it happens. But there are those things she just keeps to herself.
Who's to say the darkened clouds must lead to rain
Who's to say the problems should just go away
Who's to point a finger at what's not understood
Everyone in the medical community thinks he's demented. Well, he is, she admits only to herself, but he still knows what he wants. And just how to get it. Who said the world was perfect? No one. It isn't. She knows that better than anyone. She isn't perfect. They are all thinking she's just purely insane. But they're the ones that don't get it.
Because, we're all mad in our own way
Colours fade the grey away
Everyone has a different way of handling their anger. Throwing a wrench in the works just makes life interesting.
Different people all the same
Each reveals the meaning
Even Bats is a caged animal. Even though his retelling of their first encounter is probably distorted.
We're all mad in our own way
Fill the sky with different shades
Anger has a different way of venting itself. She isn't a cutter, killing is more her style. Might as well be with the best of the best of demented crimes.
Read the story on each page
Each reveals the meaning
She'd never tell him that she knows why he subconsiously is like this. And she knows about the nightmares. Not even he knows about those.
Each reveals the meaning
She knows she's trapped. But at least he loves her. Sort of.
Sometimes I think I over analyze
As if I cant control the time and place
He always says that she thinks too much. Maybe she does. After all, she isn't the one that calls all the shots.
Life isn't something you try on for size
You can't love without the give and take
She has to say that sometimes his ideas aren't as painless as she wishes they were, but at this point, she's ruined goods. She's not just going to be accepted in those "accepted" circles.
Who's to say the darkened clouds must lead to rain
Who's to say the problems should just go away
Who's to point a finger at what's not understood
Everyone has judged them so easily. The City hates them. And she knows it. But who cares? He doesn't. She won't.
Because, we're all mad in our own way
Colours fade the grey away
She doesn't get the rage of the general populous over how great the black suit is.
Isn't green and purple, red and black better?
Different people all the same
Each reveals the meaning
Everyone hates their life. They're lying if they say they don't. And everyone wants something different, something "better". She didn't get a Ph.D for nothing.
We're all mad in our own way
Fill the sky with different shades
And having the chips all against you just makes everything that more fun. Especially since everyone is insane.
Read the story on each page
Each reveals the meaning
She wishes she was a writer. Maybe then she'd explain -- but what's there to explain? People aren't all that different.
We're all mad in our own way
Fill the sky with different shades
Different people all the same
Each reveals the meaning
We're all mad in our own way
Fill the sky with different shades
Read the story on each page
Each reveals the meaning
We're all mad