A Different Drummer

 

I never wished for fame.

I didn’t strive for wealth.

They’re both losing games,

As far as I can tell.

 

And I never cared

To have the world on a string.

Not like some friends of mine.

What would I do

With such sad little thing?

Maybe twirl it around just to kill some time.

 

I march to the beat of a different drummer -

& dance to the music of the spheres.

See a shooting star, I stick out my thumb -

Can I get a lift, I never fit in here.

 

And who are the Jones’?

Why should I keep up?

I bet they’re going pretty slow

Carrying all that stuff.

 

No, I’ve never felt

I had to keep the faith.

Where would I put it?

My pockets are full.

I’ll get some later.

I saw it on eBay.

I’ll have it delivered

When I’m getting old.

 

I march to the beat of a different drummer

& dance to the music of the spheres

See a shooting star, I stick out my thumb -

Can I get a lift, I never fit in here.