Point a gun at my head and I'll dance for you
My feet will flex, my body twist
I'll take to the air
Watch Fred Astaire blush
Hold a knife to my throat and I'll sing for you
My voice will tower and soar
The crowds will gather, open jaws
They'll be asking for autographs later
Threaten me with violence and I'll find the cure for cancer
Innovate renewable energy technologies
Travel through wormholes
The world will never be the same again
Leave me alone, let me be and I will waste away
A nothing, a drifting nobody
Work, home, sleep, play, work
Home, sleep, play, work, home, sleep ...
Thursday, 24 February 2011
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