Northface, pretty face, thinks shes perfect, far from it, so not worth it.

Acts like she’s sure of herself, always knows exactly what to say, coping with the fact that tomorrow she has to get through another miserable day.

Surrounded by all the other girls, she’s the leader of the pack, only because she’s nice to them even though they all hate each other, and she knows they talk behind her back

Fully alive, life of the party, she can’t be mislead, crying on the inside, far from wounded, she’s already dead.

We’re all made to die.

To crash and burn like shooting stars.

It may not be soon,

but it will never be never.

Every soul has its time,

every love its own expiration

but like an ocean’s waves

it is all meant to fall.

So, let it fall

and let us die.

But most of all

let it live,

and let us thrive

Lunacy is freedom.

Solo, burnt, boundlessness.

Run crazy, run

far away and don’t look back

or their claws will sink right through

and capture you.


Cry crazy, cry

louder and harder

so that you pierce their ears

with the sound of your soul.


And laugh crazy, ******* laugh

at their frozen, populated boundaries.


Run lunatic,

Cry lunatic,

Laugh lunatic,

Run, Cry, and Laugh crazy,

because where you’re free they’re not.