These are the first lyrics I have written. It's meant to be sort of pop-rockish. |
*cheerful* The hand comes down, swirls around, driven by imagination. What luck have you, for you have found the story of my creation. In the beginning, I was just a thought pictured on a page. To be seen and loved by all of the peoples of every age. *dramatic slow-down* But the hand of creation grew lazy. The vision of me became hazy. My final form, what a sham. But it's how I am *note is held* *cheerful* I'm just a stick man. I do the best that I can *held* Yes, I'm a stick man. The jester of the land *held* *interjection*-"Of art" *pause* *cheerful* My eyes are two black circles. My anorexia plainly shows. My mouth is smiling, frowning, or squiggly, I don't even have a nose. My creator put me on a page to incite laughter from his peers. If you ask for my opinion, he deserves some jaunts and jeers *held8 Oh, I'm a stick man. I do the best I can *held* Kindergartners are my most adoring fans *held* *dramatic slowdown* Oh, my dear creator, why have you made me so? At least you could add some color, then I would truly glow! But now I can hear you snoring; minimal effort has worn you out. You must have been afflicted by a creativity drought *held* *cheerful* I am a stick man. I do the best I can *held* Yes, I'm a stick man. My entire life is a sham *held* *ending riff* |