Starting to realize there's something more to this game.
A life spent writing about other lives is no life.
Stuck bent over a computer all day.
With nothing but a little pay to show for it.
Almost at the point that I'd rather write for myself for free.
I'd rather use my words for my way.
Use my words and see if I can't make them pay.
Rather play that play.
Another year has gone by me.
Don't want to be 70 and full of regrets
Reading a bunch of old clips that didn't mean shit.
Better to take a shot at doing my thing.
Could fall flat on my face.
Rather do that than look back with shame.
At myself for all I didn't do.
And all the time I wasted.
Chasing someone else's life while wasting mine.
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Regrets I've had a few
But then again too few to mention
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exemption
I planned each charted course
Each careful step along the byway
And more, much more than this
I did it my way
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