The thoughts pool in my mind,
driving me crazy,
unable to think.
Thoughts I shouldn't have,
thoughts so crazy,
you'd lock me in an asylum.
Yes, I'm crazy, and,
Yes, I'm me.
And sometimes, I'd give everything to trade.
Get a day free of my life.
Or to view my life like an outsider looking in.
To see the fucked up shit that's me,
to see how my mask's hold up.
To view my parents,
to see how I treat others.
Get an opinion of my life.
Because,
Yes, I'm crazy,
and, yes,
I'm me.
You'd lock me in an asylum for life,
send me to a mental hospital,
get me intense therapy.
Because my thoughts?
They aren't as innocent as I seem.
Me?
I'm more crazy than I seem.
My friends?
I'm more alone than I look.
My brain?
Don't look there,
be prepared for the worst.
So lock me up,
send me away,
get me therapy.
But, I'm still me,
still crazy.
And you know what?
I'm still okay.
My mask can crumble,
my crazy, perverted self,
can finally shine through.
But today's not that day,
because I'm still crazy,
and I'm still fighting my mask.
