THE WRITER
Get up
Pick yourself up
What’s the use in lying there?
You used to dance across the white
The work would always do itself
It was one long walk on air
I’m no good without you
What’s the use of me without you?
I can hardly tread the boards with nothing to say
Get up
Pick yourself up
How I miss the former you
Off-colour you may be, and scared to make your mark
But I feel useless too
I’m no good without you
What’s the use of me without you?
I can hardly tread the boards with nothing to say
Can’t you see me
Quietly dying in the old chair by the former
Birthplace of ideas that made our name?
How can you be
So unkind to spurn the desk there in the corner
And starve me of the oxygen of fame?
Get up
Pick yourself up
Laugh they may, could I care less?
Jump into my palm and dance
Across a page that’s never-ending
From back room to success
I’m no good without you
What’s the use of me without you?
I can hardly tread the boards with nothing to say
Get up
Pick yourself up
What’s the use in lying there?
You used to dance across the white
The work would always do itself
It was one long walk on air
I’m no good without you
What’s the use of me without you?
I can hardly tread the boards with nothing to say
Get up
Pick yourself up
How I miss the former you
Off-colour you may be, and scared to make your mark
But I feel useless too
I’m no good without you
What’s the use of me without you?
I can hardly tread the boards with nothing to say
Can’t you see me
Quietly dying in the old chair by the former
Birthplace of ideas that made our name?
How can you be
So unkind to spurn the desk there in the corner
And starve me of the oxygen of fame?
Get up
Pick yourself up
Laugh they may, could I care less?
Jump into my palm and dance
Across a page that’s never-ending
From back room to success
I’m no good without you
What’s the use of me without you?
I can hardly tread the boards with nothing to say