oh, get me away from here i’m dying.. play me a song to set me free..
nobody writes them like they used to, so it may as well be me.
here on my own now after hours
here on my own now on a bus
think of it this way: you could either be successful or be us —
with our winning smiles, and us, with our catchy tunes and words
now we’re photogenic.. you know we don’t stand a chance…
oh, i’ll settle down with some old story about a boy who’s just like me: thought there was love in everything and everyone — you’re so naive!
they always reach a sorry ending;
they always get it in the end..
still it was worth it as i turned the pages solemnly, and then,
with a winning smile, the boy with naivity succeeds..
at the final moment i cried; i always cry at endings.
oh, that wasn’t what i meant to say at all.. from where i’m sitting, rain falling against the lonely tenement has set my mind to wander into the windows of my lovers, they never know unless i write.. this is no declaration — i just thought i’d let you know goodbye..
said the hero in the story, ‘it is mightier than swords … i could kill you sure, but i could only make you cry with these words.