No one ever said to me that I should write a symphony,
But write it, now I've wrote it, and the days are growing longer.
No hint of allegation, or trouble with notations,
And everyone's been mangling my name.
I took time to work it out at seats of higher learning,
But I never understood a single thing that they said to me
Except, "Son, you know you think you've got a chance but let me tell you,
We've worked her out and you've come here to fail".
Friend, don't you know, I've got thoughts that I'm scared of.
God is for me, is a thing to beware of.
Get it on, bag a girl.
Every single person who has told you that you couldn't,
Lives in fear that you'll achieve the things in life they think you shouldn't.
A parallel digression, unswerving in direction,
And that was why they set my hair on fire.
You worked out the best of it and I worked out the rest of it,
And finally solutions fell around us like in autumn.
We were wrong and we were right a bit,
We laughed and then we cried a bit.
I'll tell you now, I've not been born to fail.
Friend, don't you know I've got these eyes from crying,
You are depraved, I salute you for trying.
When I'm gone, you take my song.
No one ever said to me that I should write a symphony,
But write it, now I've wrote it, and the days are growing longer.
No hint of allegation, or trouble with notations,
And everyone's been laying off my name.
Friend, don't you know, I've got thoughts that I'm scared of.
God is for me, is a thing to beware of.
Friend, don't you know, I've got these eyes from crying,
You are depraved, and I love you for trying.
When I'm wrong, bring it on.
― Grandpont Genie, Thursday, 6 March 2008 15:25 (seventeen years ago)