I long I were a little bit better,

a hand to hold on tighter,

as every cloud passed by me.

I hope I'd be a little bit braver,

a voice to yearn for the favour,

as lonely thunder sang to me.

I'd pretend I feel a little bit fine,

 more than ever

a smile to add to the pretence deeper,

as it had rained down the happiness,

I fancied every day.

Now, it's raining, darling,

a little bit more than yesterday,

a little bit heavier each day.

And I wonder why I wait for rain...

 a little bit farther I wander away...

from being a little bit saner they want me to be.

 I'll just say that insanity is the inability to communicate your ideas. It's as if you were in a foreign country, able to see and understand everything that's going on around you but incapable of explaining what you need to know or of being helped, because you don't understand the language they speak there."

― Paulo Coelho