That, A film, is a film, is a film,
Nothing more than just, a film,
But, They’re so much more than just that,
A great film is a piece of art in movement,
An artistic revelation, a creation come to life,
That was written by the hand,
But was born in the heart,
With human interaction, feelings,
Playing a monumental part,
A sort of falling in love,
From the very start.
Not interested in money,From flower to flower,Flips, does she,In her life’s danceShe’s a conformist,Not a sinner or a spinner,Not even worriedAbout what’s for dinnerJust goes from day to day,Nonchalantly, freeHow lucky we would beIf our lives were as simpleAs the life of the Busy Bee.
So voting people do wake up,And see the truth,Before it is too late,Your Liberty’s at stake!
Why I’m always asking why,Maybe it’s just not to cry,At the impossibility,Of really knowing, why.
They make me float,In worlds, remoteSo very far awayWhere I can dreamAnd follow streams,Imagination, stealBe happy, sadEven be glad,While knowingNothing’s real.
Our weaknesses, and rapture,The Creative Spirit can capture,The feelings that Life tries so hardTo fracture.
No matter,How many timesYou’ve made itYou really,Don’t knowHow it willTurn out,Until,You make itAnd taste it.
