From
Natasha Bedingfield (my current favorite):
These words are my own
Threw some chords together, the combination D-E-F
It's who I am, it's what I do, and I was gonna lay it down for you
I tried to focus my attention, but I feel so A-D-D
I need some help, some inspiration, but it's not coming easily
Trying to find the magic
Trying to write a classic
Don't you know, don't you know, don't you know?
Waste-bin, full of paper
Clever rhymes- see you later
These words are my own, from my heart flow
I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you
There's no other way to better say
I love you, I love you
Read some Byron, Shelley and Keats
Recited it over a hip-hop beat
I'm having trouble saying what I mean
With dead poets and a drum machine
You know I had some studio time booked
But I couldn't find the killer hook
Now you're gonna raise the bar right up
Nothing I write is ever good enough
I'm getting off my stage
The curtains pull away
No hyperboles to hide behind
My naked soul exposes
I love you, I love you, that's all I got to say
Can't think of a better way, and that's all I got to say
I love you, is that ok?
I love that part where she says: "These words are my own... I love you."
It reminds of the first few sentences of Jeanette Winterson's "Written on the Body."You said 'I love you.' Why is it that the most unoriginal thing we can say to one another is still the thing we long to hear? 'I love you' is always a quotation. You did not say it first and neither did I, yet when you say it and when I say it we speak like savages who have found three words and worship them.
I've always believed in prose's characteristic power.
