Yes, he was the man who wanted too much.
He wanted to see, to feel, and to touch.
And he could never be happy.
He was the man who wanted too much.
No, he could never be happy.
He was the man who wanted too much.
Yes, he was the man who wanted too much.
He wanted to see, to feel, and to touch.
And he could never be happy.
He was the man who wanted too much.
No, he could never be happy.
He was the man who wanted too much.
No, he could never be happy.
He was the man who wanted too much.
I spend my life in a cubicle
surrounded by five foot pastel walls.
I sit in my chair and stare into a cathode ray tube.
My desk is cluttered with papers,
and a coffee cup that's never been washed.
I never do anything that I haven't done sometime before.
But I dream I'm up on a stage somewhere
with a spotlight on my hair.
Playing my piano. Singing my heart out.
My book of poetry is being redone by me, I have a beautiful cover designed and the book will have a few more than 200 poems in it. I am going to have it printed on demand here in Canada. When it is done I will let you know when it is done and if anyo
surrounded by five foot pastel walls.
I sit in my chair and stare into a cathode ray tube.
My desk is cluttered with papers,
and a coffee cup that's never been washed.
I never do anything that I haven't done sometime before.
But I dream I'm up on a stage somewhere
with a spotlight on my hair.
Playing my piano. Singing my heart out.
Mark Sebring (from "Soliloquy", 2002)