I think I am crazy

I think that maybe

I am still just a baby

Crawling toward the sun

Trying to catch the stars

In my palms

I think I am strange

I think I'm deranged

I have been hanged

Swinging from the tree

Rustling with the leaves

In my hair

I think I am a waste

I think I'm fine lace

I am a basket case

Floating down the river

Drifting round the bend

In my casket