A songwriter writes songs all the time, whereas just writing a song can be done by anyone, anytime.
Life is one grand, sweet song, so start the music.
Is this the real life Is this just fantasy Caught in a landslide No escape from reality Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy Because I'm easy come, easy go; little high, little low anyway the wind blows doesn't really matter to me To me.
And those whom once my song had cheered and gladdened, If still they live, rove through the world now saddened.
The songs of the slave represent the sorrows of his heart.
May your heart always be joyful. May your song always be sung.