I would love to be able to come up with my own words. That perfect phrase to cause scorn, affection, worship. The sort of words that people like me use when they are to dense to find a string of syllables that fits just right. If there's anything that you want if there's anything I can do just call on me and I'll send it along with love from me to you, is beautiful, I mean very few have honorably contested the wonderous songwriting skills of a Mr.Lennon, with the efforts of his friends Mr. McCartney. But, they never seem real because they aren't. Maybe they were back in 1964 when they were first laid down on paper, but now 50 years later rolling off of my tongue they mean nothing. Nothing more than an excellent memory, and way too much time spent within the world projected by a slice of metal plastic.
I pray that someday, if I never become creative enough to formulate my own way of saying it, that I will just once have the courage to say what I mean, without fear of my words being mutilated. Hopefully, I will be able to live my life one day unaided, by John, Paul, George, and Ringo.