Non-fiction Writer

Lyrics
They met at a bar She was young and on her own He was a writer So well-spoken and depressed She didn't care to impress He didn't like her It started with a conundrum He said: it's light at night But dark during the day She said: that's easy He thought: no it's not He pondered for a sec And then he shrugged Because he loved to talk But he hated conversation He loved to talk But he hated conversation And when they came home The writer's home It turned out all he had was words Words in books Books on shelves Shelves like the years he started counting He said: there's so many things That have disappointed me And soon one of them is you She started crying And as she started crying He knew exactly what to do Because he loved to watch But he would die for imagination He loved to watch But he would die for imagination
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Credits
- Writers
- Michiel Klein
- Arie van Vliet