@migu music@

Reaching for his pen, he then commence to try to write the story of his life

Working all day and sleeping all night, what was there to say, what was there to write

Loving is for rich men, hating is for poor men, money is for fighters, crying is for writers

Living in the center of his own little world, his face never seen, his voice never heard

An endless stream of sorrow flows, a victim of the life he chose

Might as well write about the working of a 40 oil spot combustion engine

Putting down his pen, he turned and said I want to live but I wish I were dead

ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh

ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh