El Loco

I know a place where a boy lives who
They call the madman who spends his days
Dreaming and watching the sunsets

And they say he's on a trip, living isolated from the
World and his companions are also
Strangers just like him

But the madman is not him and he struggles to understand
Searching apparently are appearances the
Only thing he sees

I know another boy who works from 8 to 4
Studies in the afternoons, sleeps at night, everything is
Fine

He's not a musician, not a poet, and doesn't seem
To be crazy, and his companions seem
Calm just like him

But the weekend comes and the sheep sheds
Its wool and buys at the pharmacy his poison of
Happiness

Madman, that word is used easily, madman
People say when they don't understand you, madman maybe
You were born before your time, madman because you looked
Beyond than the others