| Somewhere along the way, I lost my aim
|
| Somewhere along the way, I lost my aim
|
| Somewhere along the way, I lost my aim
|
| I struggle along in vain, just to not quite make it
|
| It’s late at night, I’m awake, surprise surprise
|
| Trying to find some kind of way to write
|
| It’s a shame, I fail to find a blatant line
|
| Between original art and what’s plagiarised
|
| It’s vague and effectively makes playing a fresh
|
| Melody impossible, I often wanna lay it to rest
|
| I say with regret cos I love making music
|
| Taking beautiful soothing sounds to make tunes with
|
| Creating a groove and arranging and looping it
|
| But usually it screws me straight up, I feel stupid
|
| I need a tea break to replace my fuses
|
| But my main mistake is that I keep making excuses
|
| The truth is I can blatantly do this
|
| But my brain just refuses to obey so I lose it
|
| Thus making me choose to take painkillers and booze
|
| Just to change up my mood plus maybe induce
|
| A thrust of creative boost to raise me up from this place of wasted youth
|
| And enable me to embrace my muse
|
| Taste the fruits of the great musical roots
|
| That grew from the days of slaves playing the blues
|
| Somewhere along the way, I lost my aim
|
| It’s come and it’s gone again I’ve lost my aim
|
| Somewhere along the way, I lost my aim
|
| My colour is gone and drained, I just might faint
|
| So hold me so tight
|
| Make me feel alive
|
| Blocked out, locked out
|
| Please, please, please not now
|
| To find the right line to write’s quite a painful paper chase
|
| Sometimes it takes ages, other days I get it straight away
|
| That’s the main way I ever can create
|
| But take away my aspirations and my brain’s a vacant place
|
| I hesitate for days in an attempt to make a serenade
|
| And say something amazing to set the grade in clever ways
|
| But fate never plays fair therefore I’ll stay this way forever
|
| Never creating 'til the end of days
|
| Seven eighths of the time when I’m trying
|
| To think of a lyric, picture an image or write a nice rhyme
|
| I’m willing my mind to fill up with brilliant ideas
|
| Bring them to life, like they were written in my tears
|
| I fear it’s quite clear I’m living a lie here
|
| Eyes dried up but I wish I could cry, hear
|
| Is this a signal or sign my mind’s fucked up?
|
| Cos if isn’t I’m just blocked
|
| Blocked out, locked out
|
| Please, please, please not now
|
| Something is wrong today, I’m not quite sane
|
| Suddenly dropped from grace, and lost my train |