I should write a song

Locked in my room, trying hard not to think about things that better not be thought about, trying harder not to think about people who better not be thought about, I am basically getting too bored to be with myself. I should do something. I should write a song. Later in life, when I get rich, (when I say rich, I mean really really rich), I’ll get a music director to compose music for my song, hire a singer to sing it for me, book a recording studio to record it when the singer sings and the music-director’s chelas play the music, burn few CD’s and pass them to my good friends. Even if every couriered CD gets turned back to me, I’ll make sure that at least my wife sits and listens, if not for anything more (and by ‘anything more’, I mean my goddamn lyrics), then for the music and the singer’s sake. Oh yes, if you by any chance, have a speck of doubt about myself having a wife when I do all this hiring and couriering stuff, then we think alike.

Okies, dokies. Time to cut the crap and work on the song. As you read it, do tap the table to produce beats, and do sing along in your brilliant voice.

Song Title: Have legs, will run

I have legs

(Chorus)

He has legs,
Hey look, he has legs

I have two legs

(Chorus)

He has two legs
Hey look, he has two legs
You didn’t count ’em before
But now you know
He has two legs

I will run

(Chorus)

He will run
He has legs
So he will run

Hey look, he is running
Running in the wind
And running in the rain

Hey look, he is running
Running with joy
And running in pain

The song’s over

(Chorus)

The song’s…

The song’s over I said assholes. So just shut the fuck up now and get back to work.