You say I'm insane - well, what if we all are?

I never believed in this world much, anyway. It very well could be our

Asylum.

I look around at these bloodied hands, these doped up eyes, these wire-strung brains and I muse,

"We may well be the universe's insane, planted in our

Asylum."

Because, in the end, we're all wild children, flickering through the stars.

It's a mystery to us all, this life of questions and answers.

We are fireworks, dancing flames, we are much too free to tame - that's why they envy us.

We are twinkles in the wrinkles of old Time, himself.

We are beautifully infinite, we defy rhyme.

We rely on ourselves, we've passed our own tests, we won't ever rest.

Yes, I believe that we're the insane.

In this world we've made, the blood on the walls could testify.

Cold blooded we've been raised, but its our spirit that keeps us crazed.

Our Asylum stays contained,

because in the end, who doesn't fear the mad man?