I am told by the "authority figures"
That it is ILLEGAL and BAD to pirate music
And I think, "I will never do that"
Then I go out of the theatre
Go home, and watch a video of a Paul McCartney song
He will not make any money from me today
Oh, for shame.
"You are cheating a poor, starving artist out of his money"
What a poor millionaire
The MPAA tells me, they tell me, they tell me,
They tell me that I should not pirate movies
I think, "I am not a pirate"
Ah, but tell a fisherman that he must pay for his catch
And will he do so?
I am not a fisherman, they say
How would they know?
How will you know my intentions if you do not know me?
Lessons we've learned from our friends
Rarely stay with us long;
The best lessons are the ones we teach ourselves
Through pain and stupidity.
I walk in, money in hand,
Souls float by, sitting at the tables.
7AM, the time when the day begins, and
A bleary-eyed feel in the air.
Nobody speaks, we're all too tired,
Even though we've just woken up.
The alarm clocks destroy our
Souls. What a pity.
Can you hear the sound silence makes?
It's a low hum, a murmur,
They are white, and buzz fragily, vibrating with fatigue.
A permanent fugue state.
They exhale constantly.
Sighs, sospiri, that's all we ever hear.
My BestExquisite pain that binds the mind
And cloth that tangles all the rest
Soon I will visit, I will find
The only thing which I had signed
The only thing that is my best
On top of waves that soon will crest
I hope that I am not too late
To stop the one that I am, lest
I give some other than my best
To someone I have bound by fate
Oh solitude is just too sweet
To give upon the ones I meet
But toys I leave, I leave this sign
To those, my friends of the line
My friends of the line.
Even ThoughEven though I can't draw
I can still see what others have drawn
And laugh, because I see their shapes and lines
Lifting off the page and taking their first breaths
Even though I can't fly
I can still dream of birds
And summer clouds in impossible hues
And a little girl on a glider
Even though I can't meet Beethoven
I can still hear his music
The notes have survived, though he has not
They fill my head like ghosts
Even though I can't change the world
I can still know the truth
Because I would rather its blade shatter my heart
Than for lies to stroke my face and leave my soul be
Unanswered QuestionsAs I walk along this beach at night,
I look to my feet, and see, not debris,
But a treasure trove of stories - ideas.
This driftwood log -
What foreign port did it make its journey from?
What thousands of miles did it travel
Before it arrived here, at my feet?
And these shells,
With patterns and colours so rich and vivid;
They tell me stories of places
Under the ocean;
Or of other times I cannot visit
Except in my imagination.
And what about these rocks?
Beachglass? Or perhaps something more?
Did they come from the court of an emperor?
Or perhaps they are jewels
From a long-lost wreck in the Spanish Main.
I do not know.
Tonight, with bright stars to guide my way,
The sea has left me unanswered questions.
HeavenIn heaven there'll be a library.
And in this library there'll be every book every written.
And it'll have armchairs, and fireplaces, and windows,
So I can just sit and watch the world go by.
In heaven there'll be oceans so I can sail,
And islands that I can land on,
And exotic ports with colourful characters,
And somewhere I can dock up and call home.
In heaven there'll be music.
I'll play the piano, and whole worlds
Will spring from my fingertips,
And the sound will carry me away.
In heaven there'll be a sky,
And clouds that look like castles,
And stars in constellations, so many of them,
And a hill to sit on, so after a big day of adventures,
I can just sit and take in the beauty of it all.
In heaven I'll have a garden.
It's funny, because they say life begins the day you
Start a garden, but I'll have one up there, anyway,
And it'll have every plant in it,
And they will all be beautiful.
The ShadowI walk on ceilings, walls, the ground
I stalk, I prowl without a sound
And yet my will is not my own
I am a puppet, a guise, a clone
I follow the one who follows me
His eyes, they look, but do not see
He doesn't know, and here I sigh
That we are the same, he and I
I do not feel, I cannot touch
And sometimes it's all just too much
The bell may toll and the wind may blow
But no one cares about their shadow
If I Could FlyThese maps I read by candle-light
These yellow-paged books of old
I draw from these poor, lifeless things
The greatest tale I've ever told
I witness stories long gone by
And read of countries near and far
And oh! If I could fly to them
To mountains tall, cities bizzare
And in my mind, this tale unfolds
The greatest epic to grace your ears
I'd talk to sailors, merchants, kings
But I am grounded, I'm stuck to here
Perhaps, one day, I'll get to them
But now, as hard as I may try
I could write my own story
If only I knew how to fly