Me pregunto si la locura será una enfermedad , simplemente, una forma distinta de ver el mundo. Me pregunto como puedes saber si estas loco, si los locos piensan que estan cuerdos. Me pregunto en que momento dejas de ser una persona diferente, especial, rara para convertirte en un loco. Me pregunto si todos estaremos equivocados y los únicos que se atreven a salir del rebaño y sentir el mundo como les apetece son los que llamamos locos.

Hay veces que me gustaría estar loca, hay veces que pienso que ya lo estoy y otras solo quiero ser como todos por que me dan miedo los dedos acusadores.

Vincent. Don Mc Lean

Starry, starry night paint your palette blue and gray look out on a summer's day with eyes that know the darkness in my soul shadows on the hills sketch the trees and the daffodils catch the breeze and the winter chills in colors on the snowy linen land Chorus: now i understand what you tried to say to me how you suffered for your sanity how you tried to set them free they did not listen, they did not know how perhaps they'll listen now Starry, starry night flaming flowers that brightly blaze swirling clouds in violet haze reflect in vincent's eyes of china blue colors changing hue morning fields of amber grain weathered faces lined in pain are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand Chorus: for they could not love you but still your love was true and when no hope was left inside on that starry, starry night you took your life as lovers often do but i could have told you vincent this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you Starry, starry night portraits hung in empty halls frameless heads on nameless walls with eyes that watch the world and can't forget like the strangers that you've met the ragged men in ragged clothes the silver thorn of bloody rose lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow now i think i know what you tried to say to me how you suffered for your sanity how you tried to set them free they did not listen they're not listening still perhaps they never will