Non-Fiction -

I was born with a song on the tip of my tongue

I grew up every weekend chasing love

Well, I tried my hand at the grip of the pen

I searched for more and more attention

Some sort of recognition

Well, I’ve got the curse of a nonfiction shelf

I just can’t seem to help my self

I can’t lie, you’d see right through my disguise

So, why would I even try?

I am a wooden boy

Well, time ticked on I was drawn by the sound of the chord

Chased it as long and as far as I could afford

Well, I’ve had my share of failed interests

But this one seems to be permanent

Something that could never be worn

Well, I’ve got the curse of the nonfiction shelf

I just can’t seem to help my self

I can’t lie, you’d see right through my disguise

So, why would I even try?

I am a wooden boy

Well, I’ve got the curse of the nonfiction shelf

I just can’t seem to help my self

I can’t, lie you’d see right through my disguise

so, why would i even try?

I am a wooden

I am x4

Well, I’ve got the curse of the nonfiction shelf

I just can’t seem to help my self

I can’t lie you’d see right through my disguise

So, why would i even try?

I am a wooden boy

I will die with a song on the tip of my tongue

Leave behind and?

lived it to be sung

Well, until then I’ll just keep writing until the ink dries up and out of this

pen

Then I lose all recollection