The air is toxic,
My skin burns,
Pin-pricks of stars are stuck to my arms,
They boil my blood,
My breathing is slow,
Here comes the Crazy!
There goes the Crazy!
Leaving us with a message,
That we are the Crazy,
Never rhyme rhyme with time,
Because it's cliché,
Well, that's what I say,
And neva rite wit korekt gramer or punctuation,
Otherwise the poem loses meaning,
Brush your hair with a toothbrush,
Back with a hairbrush,
Teeth with a backbrush,
Brush your dog with the cat's brush,,
Remember:
If you're not on the edge, you're taking up too much space,
If you're not flying high, it's easier to hit a tree and die,
Walking fast is just running slow,
Now you're tutorial is complete:
Welcome to the Crazy!
