I was a young boy passing by
Saw a madman crossing by
Cut the corner to evade
His wild acts that made me fear
But the madman could be me
Judging wrongly what I see
How could he mean me any harm
By just passing by the farm?
In the end I was alone
Feeling guilty by my home
Thoughts do betray the gift of sight
Make the calmest things go wild
Guilty is the man I am
Misjudging a faulty dance
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