They Call Me Crazy
They call me crazy, and I call life insane.
If I am psychotic,
Then what does that make the people that sent me here?
The world is a jail.
Comfort, normality, morality.
If that doesn’t make you sick, then what does?
Revolution is needed,
And revolution has never come from a man that has followed rules.
You don’t feel it?
You don’t feel the desire, the desperation, the ambition,
To be free?
Maybe my lifestyle is Russian roulette,
But I am not dead yet,
And that is why we are not the same.
Not because I am crazy,
But because I am,
You, are safe.
Safe, in concepts, institutions, mindsets.
Have you ever chased,
This is not what we are,
Who we are.
Labels, names, words,
Means as little,
As the life you are living, if you let them apply to you.
I am in debt,
Because I owe the world something it has given me.
Life, a mind.
I owe impact.
This is where destiny has led me,
Because I have followed it.
I stare in to your eyes,
Because it is incredible that the universe,
Has led me to this, you.
Fear, an illusion,
Mind, an opportunity.
Life, a dream.
So live it.
It is, that simple.
Ignorance, challenges you.
Labels, restrain you.
Pain, refrains you.
That is the world.
Is inside of you.
Why does love have to be chaos, destruction, metaphorical darkness,
It is associated, antequated with the most responsible of horror,
burning, explodig, ending.
Love, is misunderstood.
Love, is not an achievment. It is undenaible, irresistable. Something that may not want to be felt, but always is. Love is in control of you.
You cannot put a name on it,
So, stop trying
You feel, what you feel, because you have led to feel it.
It is beauty, in the most purest form of it's essence.
A dream, that is desired,
A dream, only meant to feel continued.
Love, is the spirit.
The energy flowing through us, binding the universe to what is has become.
We are created by it, designed in it's image.
Humanity, is love.
We derive from it's warns, rise from it's ruins, grow from it's conrete,
prosper from it's scars,
light is needed, wanted.
Love is what made you. Love is responsible,
for what you have become.
Do not hate it.
Love, is what you love.
If you chase it, you are meant to be where you stand,
and that isn't too bad of a place, is it?
Sometimes, the sky falls,
sometimes hope sinks,
it was fast,
A lamborgini raced down the street,
flames sharing the same beat as the engine's rumbles.
Sparkling paint, shining in the relection of it's surroundings,
Speed, triggered upon throttle,
Control, is certain.
Love, is to be feared.
Love, is to be claimed dangerous.
Because love, is unpredictable.
Acceptance, is a concept introduced by the future.
A prescence, that leads you to forgiveness, embracement, triumph.
But, is it to be questioned?
Why, does love hurt?
Why, is love is not shared?
Why, is love,
not climbed towards,
only fallen for?
It was the frontlines of it.
Bullets of insecurites flew in to me,
I was perceieved, penetrated,
by my own passion
as I bled.
Bled, a force unstoppable.
It was numbed, by time,
manipulated, by distance,
but never healed.
that is when I learned,
meteors are meant to strike,
cars are meant to be shown, flashed, crashed,
Blood, is meant to be bled.
It, is meant to be felt.
This is a connection. You know the hands you share with others. You are in pursuit, of something more than what you are.
Love, has led you here.
You, need to accept something.
are not in control.
You, are a product of all that you have chased,
all that you have desired,
all that you have loved.
You are the war, you are the love.
Why do you put me in such eternal pain?
Why do you rid me of your reality, but fulfill my dreams?
Love, is to be explained.
Love, is to be seen,
Love is to be shown,
is to be felt.
You will feel it.
For the world, for yourself,
even for another,
When you understand,
Love is you?
The mirror, only has one responsible of it's answer.