Everyday I write a happy poem
Pearls of laughter rolling on panes of fire blasted sand
All of time is a construct here
It has become pulse
Spider-web cracking as it moves forward
As construed
Towards a future presented as past once you reach it
Everyday I write a happy poem
Because time capsules are corny
But the cute kinda corny
That keeps you from letting life encapsulate you
And ain't life the time capsule
Reminding you that time zones, time signatures, and time only applies to you, and only you
And haven't I figured out a tempo
Shook off jet lag
Saved daylight in the vastness of my mind
Because time doesn't seem to respect my space
Moves me through years like montage
All the music sounding like cacophonies of melancholy
And symphonies of acceptable, and acceptance
Turntable mixed
Tables like spoons, sprinkling a bit of that phony, and that phony
So I write happy poems
Because there are things I want to be for me, and just for me
Because people will fit you into a narrative
Like earth fits you into gravitational pull
Thinking that seeing someone, and knowing someone is the same knowledge
So I burn a happy poem a day
Recording the truth of me, I'm still defining into
Atmospheres
So at most fears
Were at most spheres
Rolling on panes of fire blasted sand
And isn't that life
A journal entry
Wikipedia page preface
Words to scroll over in 3rd person, while the person is living those words in 1st person
And isn't time a wheel, that'll crush you if you don't move
Gem dropping, also known as mining diamonds from the rough
Given to you by this world, that's what we do here
Sometimes though
It just feels like finger cramping
Cramming ink unto a page, or eating up data on a device
Or making a bubble for organized thoughts
In the sensory overload that is breathing
Using words you didn't make to express opinions that are yours
Keep writing though, eating data, breathing
Because relatable beings don't know you exist yet
And they'll want to
Exist in those intersections where agreement is currency
Current, and currently the only thing keeping them alive
And maybe you don't wanna be related to
See that as a weakness of sorts
And I can relate to that
I haven't exactly found a point to all this yet
But practice makes perfect, so perfect must be practice
And I've written a happy poem everyday
And that is truly one of the greatest joy I think I will ever know
Rondald James* - a H@ppy Poem Lyrics
Rondald James* - a H@ppy Poem Lyrics
Official
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
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Everyday I write a happy poem
Pearls of laughter rolling on panes of fire blasted sand
All of time is a construct here
It has become pulse
Spider-web cracking as it moves forward
As construed
Towards a future presented as past once you reach it
Everyday I write a happy poem
Because time capsules are corny
But the cute kinda corny
That keeps you from letting life encapsulate you
And ain't life the time capsule
Reminding you that time zones, time signatures, and time only applies to you, and only you
And haven't I figured out a tempo
Shook off jet lag
Saved daylight in the vastness of my mind
Because time doesn't seem to respect my space
Moves me through years like montage
All the music sounding like cacophonies of melancholy
And symphonies of acceptable, and acceptance
Turntable mixed
Tables like spoons, sprinkling a bit of that phony, and that phony
So I write happy poems
Because there are things I want to be for me, and just for me
Because people will fit you into a narrative
Like earth fits you into gravitational pull
Thinking that seeing someone, and knowing someone is the same knowledge
So I burn a happy poem a day
Recording the truth of me, I'm still defining into
Atmospheres
So at most fears
Were at most spheres
Rolling on panes of fire blasted sand
And isn't that life
A journal entry
Wikipedia page preface
Words to scroll over in 3rd person, while the person is living those words in 1st person
And isn't time a wheel, that'll crush you if you don't move
Gem dropping, also known as mining diamonds from the rough
Given to you by this world, that's what we do here
Sometimes though
It just feels like finger cramping
Cramming ink unto a page, or eating up data on a device
Or making a bubble for organized thoughts
In the sensory overload that is breathing
Using words you didn't make to express opinions that are yours
Keep writing though, eating data, breathing
Because relatable beings don't know you exist yet
And they'll want to
Exist in those intersections where agreement is currency
Current, and currently the only thing keeping them alive
And maybe you don't wanna be related to
See that as a weakness of sorts
And I can relate to that
I haven't exactly found a point to all this yet
But practice makes perfect, so perfect must be practice
And I've written a happy poem everyday
And that is truly one of the greatest joy I think I will ever know
Pearls of laughter rolling on panes of fire blasted sand
All of time is a construct here
It has become pulse
Spider-web cracking as it moves forward
As construed
Towards a future presented as past once you reach it
Everyday I write a happy poem
Because time capsules are corny
But the cute kinda corny
That keeps you from letting life encapsulate you
And ain't life the time capsule
Reminding you that time zones, time signatures, and time only applies to you, and only you
And haven't I figured out a tempo
Shook off jet lag
Saved daylight in the vastness of my mind
Because time doesn't seem to respect my space
Moves me through years like montage
All the music sounding like cacophonies of melancholy
And symphonies of acceptable, and acceptance
Turntable mixed
Tables like spoons, sprinkling a bit of that phony, and that phony
So I write happy poems
Because there are things I want to be for me, and just for me
Because people will fit you into a narrative
Like earth fits you into gravitational pull
Thinking that seeing someone, and knowing someone is the same knowledge
So I burn a happy poem a day
Recording the truth of me, I'm still defining into
Atmospheres
So at most fears
Were at most spheres
Rolling on panes of fire blasted sand
And isn't that life
A journal entry
Wikipedia page preface
Words to scroll over in 3rd person, while the person is living those words in 1st person
And isn't time a wheel, that'll crush you if you don't move
Gem dropping, also known as mining diamonds from the rough
Given to you by this world, that's what we do here
Sometimes though
It just feels like finger cramping
Cramming ink unto a page, or eating up data on a device
Or making a bubble for organized thoughts
In the sensory overload that is breathing
Using words you didn't make to express opinions that are yours
Keep writing though, eating data, breathing
Because relatable beings don't know you exist yet
And they'll want to
Exist in those intersections where agreement is currency
Current, and currently the only thing keeping them alive
And maybe you don't wanna be related to
See that as a weakness of sorts
And I can relate to that
I haven't exactly found a point to all this yet
But practice makes perfect, so perfect must be practice
And I've written a happy poem everyday
And that is truly one of the greatest joy I think I will ever know
Writer: Rondald Owens
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid