Thought this would be a good first post as it pretty much sums up my thoughts on writing. It's a very odd structure but it works with the music and it's supposed to be a trail of thought in essence. Feedback welcome and thanks in advance!
(Verse 1)
Many years before I wrote this song
There was a concept that seemed quite absurd
At first a seldom few chose to play along
And they could some things of which we'd never heard
(Verse 2)
They found constellations in our words
And they could draw a map depicting nouns and verbs
And each and ever man on Earth
Could become immortal should the skills be yearned
(Verse 3)
So as millenia came to pass
The greatest writers left their mark
And Homer, Tolstoy, and even Monty Python
Sanctioned wisdom as a form of art
(Verse 4)
But it's easy to list and exemplify
So I'm standing here trying to emphasise
That we all have pages in our minds
And we all have hopes we come to realise
(Verse 5)
And it's true we could just justify
Our ways of life by citing quips
And silioquies that we've come across
scouring scripts for any hints or tips
(Pre-Chorus)
But aren't we all just playwrights in the end?
Aren't we all just playwrights in the end?
Aren't we all just playwrights splitting quills
(Chorus)
Staining ink to our shaking hands
And scatching our beards for what must be the thousandth time
On a holy quest trying to find the perfect words
To bring these pages back to life
(Interlude)
So I'm not quitting yet, I'm just taking a moment
To remind my self that I ain't no ****ing Shakespeare
There is no reading between the lines,
At best some half-arsed cliche lines
That I'm pretty are irrelevant in the end
(Coda)
So when my ink runs dry
Then it's time to die.
And only then
Will I have nothing left to write.