Are all the insane really insane
And the sane really sane?
Or is it just our imagination
Or the phases wax and wane?
I have for you just one question,
Please tell me if you can.
Who decides who is insane
And who the sane man?
If life is but an illusion,
Everything springs from our imagination,
And if living in that perpetual state is sanity
Then shouldn't we redefine insanity?
Who is to say our illusions
Are more legitimate than their delusions
Imaginations or even hallucinations?
It's all a matter of perceptions.
And if this logic we accept,
Then all are insane except
The Old Man laughing above
While he makes us all his puppets.
If this truth we realize,
All “sane” people would be wise
Enough this simple fact to learn to accept,
No one on earth is born perfect.
So why can't we be more humane
To those the “sane” consider “insane”?
We know not when we cross the border
That should to us be pretty plain.
The line in-between is fine
We could cross over any time,
Or the border could move either way
Which side would we be on that day?
For what one sees as white
May not to another seem so bright.
He may see a shade of gray
Whose perception is right, tell me, pray?
So let's not mock at those who are yonder
But take time off the fact to ponder,
That to remain perfectly sane
We all need a streak of the insane
We need a streak of the bizarre
To keep us as sane as we are,
Or at least as sane as we seem
In this life that is but a dream.
Without that streak of insanity
There would be no sanity.
Truly no one is sane or insane
Let's stop making such empty claims.
