Next Time - Brightside

My life is not a poem

It’s just a dreamer’s dumb idea

For lack of a shorter word

It’s like an onomatopoeia

So come to terms with what you can

Because it’s gone before you know it

My life is not a party

It’s sort of like an omen

Rail a line coming to see you won’t resolve

A bitter type coming to beat you up

Is a small, small part

A tortoise that’s forever on its back

Will always beg for slower races

But slow and steady doesn’t hack

When rabbits have the cuter faces

Take a day, a break

Polish all of your lucky pennies and throw them away

Rail a line coming to see you won’t resolve

A bitter type coming to beat you up

Is a small, small small small part

Polish all of your lucky pennies and throw them away

Polish all of your lucky pennies

Nah Nahda Nah Nah Nahda

Nah Nahda Nah Nah Nahda

Nah Nahda Nah Nah Nahda

Nah Nahda Nah Nah Nahda