Wake up ev’ry morning,
So much stuff to learn.
Histories of this and that,
Latin verbs and habitat,
Principles of bacon fat.
The time
Flies by.
It’s another day.
It’s just another day
At Enrico Fermi High.
On Friday we’ll be jacked up on the football game
And I’ll be ready to fight
We’re gonna smash 'em now
My girl will be working on her pom-poms now
And she’ll be yelling tonight
So be true to your school now
Just like you would to your girl or guy
Be true to your school now
And let your colors fly
Be true to your school
Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want
You’re so fuckin’ special
I wish I was special
But I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
'Cause I gonna make you see
There’s nobody else here
No one like me
I’m special, so special
I gotta have some of your attention give it to me
Well your nobody called today,
She hung up when I asked her name.
Well I wonder does she think, she’s being clever?
You say nobody’s after you,
The fact is what you say is true,
But I can love you like nobody can, even better.
This is the sound of my soul
This is the sound
I bought a ticket to the world
But now I’ve come back again
Why do I find it hard to write the next line?
Oh, I want the truth to be said
I know this much is true
I know this much is true
But what is truth?
Is truth a changing law?
We both have truths.
Are mine the same as yours?
Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won’t come again
And don’t speak too soon
For the wheel’s still in spin
And there’s no tellin’ who
That it’s namin’
For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin’
Sit by my side, come as close as the air,
Share in a memory of gray;
Wander in my words, dream about the pictures
That I play of changes.
Green leaves of summer turn red in the fall
To brown and to yellow they fade.
And then they have to die, trapped within
the circle time parade of changes.
In the circle of life
It’s the wheel of fortune
It’s the leap of faith
It’s the band of hope
'Til we find our place
On the path unwinding
In the circle, the circle of life
Round like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel
Like a snowball down a mountain, or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that’s turning running rings around the moon
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face
And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind
Round like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel
Like a snowball down a mountain, or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that’s turning running rings around the moon
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face
And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind
And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game
All my life’s a circle;
Sunrise and sundown;
Moon rolls through the nighttime;
'Til the daybreak comes around.
All my life’s a circle;
But I can’t tell you why;
Season’s spinning round again;
The years keep rollin’ by.
Sunrise, sunset,
Swiftly fly the years,
One following another,
Laden with happiness,
And tears
Sunrise, sunset,
Swiftly fly the years,
One season following another,
Laden with happiness,
And tears
To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time to every purpose, under heaven
A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep
Oh, willow weep for me
Weeping willow tree
Bend your branches green
Along the stream
That runs to sea
Listen to my plea
Listen willow and weep
On the willows, there
We hung up our lives
For our captors there
Require
Of us songs
And our tormentors mirth
On a tree by a river a little tom-tit
Sang “Willow, titwillow, titwillow”
And I said to him, “Dicky-bird, why do you sit
Singing ‘Willow, titwillow, titwillow’”
“Is it weakness of intellect, birdie?” I cried
“Or a rather tough worm in your little inside”
With a shake of his poor little head, he replied
“Oh, willow, titwillow, titwillow!”