About the song
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Words from the artist’s archive
THE CRAZY ONE lyrics
Artist-supplied lyric sheet, matched by title. The sheet may differ from this released performance. Production notes and alternate promotional cuts are omitted.
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Intro
Ping, ping, group chat goin' off again, cousin Dean out here stackin' barrels in the bend.
Verse 1
Tuesday, sun out, palm trees barely move, Dean draggin' blue barrels 'cross the cul-de-sac smooth. Generator on a dolly, forty gallons of gas, Diane at her window peekin' through the blinds like glass. Auntie text the thread, "that boy done lost his mind," I typed back "lol," but I watched him every time. Labels on the totes, batteries in a row, man got a spreadsheet for a storm that ain't show.
Pre-chorus
So who's the delusional one, the one who packs or the one who don't? Sky look fine 'til it don't, laugh now, we gon' see who float.
Chorus
Whole block laughin' at the barrels in his bay, HOA versus the storm, we gon' see who pray. Call him dizzy, call him crazy, 'til the grid go dark, Cold drinks and the light still on in the garage, AC pumping while they figure who's the crazy one now.
Verse 2
Letter on the door, "unauthorized exterior change," fine him for the shutters, call his barrels out of range. Dean sent a voice note, two minutes, didn't pause, "y'all fine my generator, who you callin' when it storm?" Publix water gone by Wednesday, he had stocked it back in June, rotate every fuel can, label 'em, mark the room. Uncle hit the thread laughin', "HOA on patrol," Diane double-park the Lexus, clipboard and a scroll.
Pre-chorus
Still, who's the delusional one, the one with rules or the one who don't? Paper say no, the clouds say go, laugh now, we gon' see who float.
Chorus
Whole block laughin' at the barrels in his bay, HOA versus the storm, we gon' see who pray. Call him dizzy, call him crazy, 'til the grid go dark, Cold drinks and the light still on in the garage, AC pumping while they figure who's the crazy one now.
Verse 3
Three a.m. the transformer popped green down the street, whole grid gone, AC dead, nothin' but the heat. Day two, no power, milk turnin' in the fridge, phones at four percent, nobody on the grid. Then a hum cut the dark, steady, low and warm, one garage glowin' gold in the eye of the storm. Line at his door by noon, coolers and cords, the crazy one the only plug the whole block toward.
Bridge
It ain't paranoia if the water really came, forty gallons in the dark and not a one of us complained. Ice up in a Igloo, fans on a cord, nobody clownin' now, and everybody warm.
Verse 4
I'm standin' at the curb with a dead phone in my hand, pride sayin' walk away, body already in the stand. He just nod, "plug in, cuz," didn't say I told you, charged my line and gave my daughter ice cream from the cooler too. Deleted my own joke 'fore I sent it to the thread, typed "respect" instead, left the laughin' ones unread. Funny how the crazy start to look like genius in a flood, funny how the curve look straight once you under it for good.
Verse 5
Diane came walkin' up, no clipboard, no scroll, water in her living room, a favor that she owed. "I was wrong about the barrels," soft, like it hurt, he handed her a flashlight, didn't rub it in the dirt. Group chat went quiet, no laughin', no jokes, just "is everybody good," and a couple little hopes. Storm took the whole block down to who we really was, and the crazy one was holdin' us together on a buzz.
Pre-chorus
So who's the delusional one, turned out the prophet, not the clown. We laughed 'til the sky came down, ain't nobody laughin' now.
Chorus
Whole block quiet at the barrels in his bay, HOA versus the storm, and the storm had its way. Call him dizzy, call him crazy, 'til the grid go dark, Cold drinks and the light still on in the garage, AC pumping while they figure who's the crazy one now.
Outro
Hum go soft, the gas run low, sun come up on the cul-de-sac slow. One bird Power back on the block today, the crazy one already put his barrels away.
Inside the recording
Ping, ping, group chat goin' off again, cousin Dean out here stackin' barrels in the bend.
So who's the delusional one, the one who packs or the one who don't?
Hum go soft, the gas run low, sun come up on the cul-de-sac slow.
Excerpts from artist-supplied lyric files matched by title. Lyric sheets may differ from the released performance.