I want to sit and play with the greats. I want to see myself singing songs that scream my soul. I want to write and make history in a studio. I want to be successful, but satisfied, too.
I want to master the JOURNEY of music. I don’t want to or care about being the best, because Who cares if an album goes platinum and It isn’t written by the REAL you, not Some cracked corporate cunning conning conundrum Cancer-causing cannibalistic contagious canary that sings songs More plastic than the casing on a vinyl?
No, I don’t believe and won’t believe In your censorship and your lies Telling me that the public will hear it If the truth is full of flies Would God be glad if you wrote that down? Would your parents get angry and sue? But I wrote them from what was hiding In a basement filthy stew.
No, I don’t believe and can’t believe In red stained glasses on brick But those bullets they flew that day To a shattered mind they stick. Should I carry on the journey now? Is it a burden worth to hold? But I’ve got to keep the people happy Cause a Grammy’s worth just like gold
Yes, I do believe and should believe In the power of a sound-filled disc The power of a musical drug With no added harmful risk. You wouldn’t believe if I got up to say That I’m living 1984 But look all around at the artists that sing Without a chance knowing of more.
I want to be strong and careless. I want to learn more about learning more of myself. I would like to be a member of the Plastic Ono Band But the dream is over, and new bands start today.
If you are in music for the money, you are spitting on very the art form itself. Say what you want and say what you feel. Don't let others tell you what to write.