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I was meant to be a sailor,
The sea does call my name.
Or maybe a starving artist,
Who will die dreaming of fame.
My head belongs on different shoulders,
This I know to be true.
The normal life I lead
Was meant for someone else I’m sure.
Someone who would close their eyes
And escape this chaotic world.
It’s not the life I asked for,
But nonetheless the life I have.
And Paris, the city of love awaits
For my soul, my longing, my heart.
Greek and Rome and Africa,
And all the beating drums.
My eyes were meant to see the world.
The sky, the dirt, the trees in bloom.
Not to die a sad, sad death
Staring at this room.
my head belongs on different shoulders.
This I know to be true.
And someday God’ll correct his mistake
And I’ll found myself anew.
Full of life, and vision, and wisdom.
And I’ll leave this bedroom,
This cage, this box,
Which keeps me hidden from view.

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