"You are mad",
It has been said,
When times are bad,
and great plans are being laid.
Scoffed by all,
Even the common folk,
The madman is,
When he uses his yolk.
For in their own small homes,
They do now see the mind flown,
The genius spawned.
For the madman is unlimited, unbound,
By the bonds of the lot,
And once those concerns deleted,
The madman hatches his prodigious plot.
Such outrageousness, shocks many,
But in the end,
After the death of cacophony,
The madman has made the world bend.
Such are the geniuses,
Who are labelled mad,
Changing the pretenses,
The dull proletariat had.
Unimaginable feats are always done,
By men who are mocked all around,
Because a true man all alone,
Is by the feckless always frowned upon.
But in their hands is the true power,
The power of change,
An evolution they must deliver,
With as little as they can maim.
This madness is in all my friends,
The faculty, this freedom within,
Why try to be one who simply blends,
When you can a revolution bring!