In life you need another,
a sister or a brother,
a father or a mother,
but ultimately a lover,
to roll with under cover and together you can discover,
that life can be sublime and in time you will find that its pure,
you can be sure that the sea will meet he shore,
and a wing will find the wind and it will soar for evermore.
Because life is free for you and me,
to be whatever we can see,
inside our heads or on the street,
just feel the beat and rythym and soul of life,
strive to achieve your goal,
stay off the dole,
stop diggin holes,
stand tall,
be bold.
Stop being a sycincal fucker,
this life can be pucker,
just grow some balls and your gold.
When you grow old and your warmth grows cold,
you want to look back and stories told
should be big and bright and beautiful, you can say 'yeah I was dutiful,
the seeds i planted were fruitfull, my boots were full,
I was fancifull and frivolous, full of wonderlust and whimsy,
supercalifragically.
Life is pushed on by the mystery,
42 never quite sat with me,
too easy,
it made me queasy,
like the universe was teasing.
It cant be so simple to find the answer,
we're just human,
maybe dancers
on that great stage god built for his amusement,
or we invented as our bemusement
and confusion needed solutions.
