The Prize

The night of a thousand verses
One thousand friends said
Have you heard, what we expected
We are all working late and
Waiting to win a prize we don’t deserve
And live to collect it
Can’t you see I’m weary
Maybe this news can wait
The night of a thousand verses
One thousand striver’s strain to hear
A voice that’s left us
And the magazines still have to sell us
Twelve master geniuses a year
It’s all so shameless
Can’t you see I’m weary
Maybe this news can wait
Can’t you see I’m blurry
Maybe this blues can wait
Maybe there was a message in it
I don’t know where you hid it
Maybe there was a piece that will fit
I don’t know how to fit it
Tell me what kind of prize can you get
Where you don’t want to win it?
Maybe there was a message in it
I don’t know where you hid it
Maybe there was a piece that will fit
I don’t know how to fit it
Tell me what kind of prize can you get
Where you don’t want to win it?
Can’t you see I’m weary
Maybe this news can wait
Can’t you see I’m blurry
Maybe this blues can wait