One Day
Worn Out Troubadour's Journey: Struggles, Dreams, and Realities
Lyrics
I’m but a worn out troubadour
I am an exhausted troubadour, worn out by my experiences.
I go from bar to bar and I sing for room and board
I move from one bar to another, singing in exchange for food and shelter.
Sometimes when the going gets tough
In challenging times, I attempt to silence people by singing melancholic songs.
I try to sing a sad song to shut the people up
When faced with difficulties, I use sad songs to hush the crowd.
I played my first show when I was nineteen
I performed my first show at nineteen in a South London basement.
In a basement in south London
The initial show was unpaid, a humble beginning.
I didn’t get paid i played for free
I didn't receive payment; I played for the love of it.
Yes I admit I wasn’t very good
I acknowledge my early lack of skill as a performer.
I was trying to hard to be misunderstood
I was overly eager to be misunderstood, perhaps trying too hard.
One day I’m gonna be a star sit atop my pedestal
One day, I aspire to be a star and rise above challenges.
Not care about the bars
At that point, I won't be concerned about limitations or boundaries.
And all the lines will come for free
My creative output will flow effortlessly.
And i’ll board that train from nowhere town to prosperity
I envision a journey from obscurity to success via a metaphorical train.
And I’ll become right wing
A shift in perspective, possibly indicating a change in political stance.
Forget about the poverty and all the trouble that I’ve been in
Choosing to ignore poverty and troubles in pursuit of success.
I don’t keep in touch with old friends I used to know
I have lost contact with old friends from my past.
Anyway they’ve all moved on now
Those friends have moved on, and I have no intention of following.
And where they’ve gone I don’t intend to go
I prefer not to go where they have gone.
Wish I lived inside walls made out of stainless steel
An expression of a desire for a secure and impenetrable environment.
Do my best to break free to prove I’m keeping it real
Despite that desire, I strive to break free to prove authenticity.
From the spotlight of the stage to the reverb of my voice
Transitioning from the spotlight to the echo of my voice.
Theres a self-serving satisfaction
A self-serving satisfaction persists, and quitting is not an option.
I can’t quit I’ve got no choice
I feel compelled to continue despite having no other viable choice.
All I’ve ever wanted is modest but moderate success
My aspirations are humble yet realistic—seeking modest success.
To get recognized on the street sometimes no more no less
Recognition on the street is the modest success I desire, nothing more, nothing less.
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