He sees the words

He thinks I write

But he is oh so wrong.

They don’t come from me.

 

It’s a song I hear in my head

Then it bugs me until I go

I must sit down and pen this out

After that I can sew.

Then it’s in the shower

The song, it comes again

I’ve got no paper sitting around

Certainly, no pen.

It demands my attention

So now I have to run

“Are you sure this song says

That I have to use a gun?”

He thinks I write the noise

I hear inside my head

He doesn’t know it won’t go away

Until the day I’m dead.

he wrote

 

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