And I've got the right voice to sing on the mic
I've got a pen, and I've got the bucks
So...what's it that makes me say..."Life sucks..."?
Countless hours and countless chords
Alone in my bedroom, open on the roads
The strings are fed up of my bloody fingers
All in vain cause she's not a listener
Unknown streets and a million miles
Will cool new stunts and trendy styles
I beat the wind and whip along
With an empty backseat..all alone
My CDs on the stands sell out in no time
They are addicted to me...the fault isn't mine
The world does feel that I'm having a ball
Cause they don't know the lady who hates it all
My pen knows its job, it writes on well
A feeling of peace, in my soul, does dwell
When the inkpot empties into that sea of love
However, there's someone whom my poems disturb
It rains dollars and pounds all time on me
Its a wonderland around, I live tension free
So...what's it that kills me every minute
Her outlook on me is the poison, definite.
(((It was written on October 23, 2006....I had no bike and guitar then. Fame and money...I still don't have....So...it's all fiction...
And ya...it was made into a song by an Elvis fan called Arun Krishna. He sang it in college. It flopped.)))
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