| I am living the dream,
|
| Of a music man,
|
| I’ve got my hand me downs,
|
| And my tin cans.
|
| Mumma told me some day son,
|
| You’ll make your name,
|
| Until that day comes,
|
| As bunched up letters it stays…
|
| Oh am I a fool,
|
| For living this way?
|
| I’m hanging on to the fine line of hope,
|
| And the thread’s letting loose.
|
| I’m drowning my words,
|
| In the sea where I swim,
|
| I’m not treading water,
|
| but I’m sinking within.
|
| I am living the dream,
|
| Of a music man,
|
| I’ve got my hand me downs,
|
| And my tin cans,
|
| Mumma told me some day son,
|
| You’ll make your name,
|
| But until that day comes,
|
| As bunched up letters it stays…
|
| So please Mumma tell me,
|
| How long will I need,
|
| Before I’m sitting back down,
|
| Thinking about how, all the things might have been?
|
| I am living the dream,
|
| Of a music man,
|
| I’ve got my hand me downs,
|
| And my tin cans,
|
| Mumma told me some day son,
|
| You’ll make your name,
|
| But until that day comes,
|
| As bunched up letters it stays…
|
| I am living the dream,
|
| Of a music man,
|
| I’ve got my hand me downs,
|
| And my tin cans,
|
| Mumma told me some day son,
|
| You’ll make your name,
|
| But until that day comes,
|
| As bunched up letters it stays…
|
| I am living the dream,
|
| Of a music man,
|
| I’ve got my hand me downs,
|
| And my tin cans,
|
| Mumma told me some day son,
|
| You’ll make your name,
|
| But until that day comes,
|
| As bunched up letters it stays…
|
| I am living the dream,
|
| Of a music man,
|
| I’ve got my hand me downs,
|
| And my tin cans,
|
| Mumma Mumma told me some day son,
|
| You’ll make your name,
|
| But until that day comes,
|
| As bunched up letters it stays… |