‘Twas the one thing he didn’t want that did it
Years of ungodly pain, panic attacks destined to leave an resounding stain
More than enough to cut the mustard when it came to his craft
Never enough to send him back-tracking, what he figures from experience to be downright daft
He can laugh now, whereas he used to cry, utterly unaware
All day long, deadly surroundings which will leave him forever equipped with that all too necessary spark in the eye
No demise, just a heavy head utterly forced underwater from time to time
Turn right round and see what’s right
After all, seems you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone
The doctors never told him
Don’t misquote me on that one, I mean they were there all along
But only now does he realise that his youthful demise, those empty twenties, may just have been a crazy degree of creativity out of step and in dangerously flirtatious disguise
Prise your life wide open, dear boy
If you’re going to play this game, you need to be prepared to juggle each and every one of these goddamn toys

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