In the sky the crowd calls black Sees a white cloud In the mirror everyone has forgotten Searches for his own face Yes, this man is a little mad.Where lies walk Like gold coins And, honesty is thrown in a corner Like rusted iron Asks there - the value of truth Yes, this man is a little mad.When thorns block the way Carries, a dream of flowers In a city full of stones Carries soil in his heart Yes, this man is a little mad.Is a little honest A little simple too Is a little connected to the earth Is...