#1
How does it feel to be one of the beautiful people,
Singing your song, as you’re swinging along from a steeple?
How does it seem that you’re living a dream, when you’re
Living a life being played on a fife, always
Walking around, like you’re talk of the town and its people?
How does it feel to be one of the beautiful people?

How can you live, with a passion to give so much love away?
How can you be so incredibly free ev’ry single day?
What do you know, that you take in so slow, only
What do you do, that you never are blue, but you
Always are bright, be it day or by night, you can lead the way.
How does it feel to be one of the beautiful people?

I know people say you’re different.
I know that they are right.
I’m glad that you are different.
I think it’s real uptight.

And I love how your eyes shine
On those cloudy days of mine.
You are the light of my world;
You are my beautiful girl, yes you are.


I'll probably write a third verse, but that could be a bit; the verse rhyme/structure scheme is a pain. And ignore all the errant question marks; I really have no clue how to punctuat this thing. Enjoy!
I'm a pianist and a poet,
and someday the world will know it
But until then all that I can do
is play my songs for you.

Wallflower says: Thank You! But my friend Odd is, well, feeling odd.