All of my songs are sounding the same,
Practically all have the same name.
They twinkle like stars
And tickle my guitar.
They dance on dates
And truly believe you’re a saint.
They are full of hope
And never have time to mope.
It’s all a wonderland.
All of my songs are sounding the same.
Yet in some dark twisted way,
I wish my life would go up in flames,
So my songs could sing of what is
And not what could be.
Flames
