Isn’t it Byronic?

Watch a performance of “Byronic.”

A young lord turned twenty-eight.
He was mugged by brigands and died the next day.
It’s a black cloud upon the English moor.
It’s doom and gloom knocking at your front door.

And isn’t it Byronic . . .
Don’t you think?

It’s like rain, but it’s every day.
It’s two days’ ride when you’d just rather stay.
It’s the full moon over the tempest spray.
And who would’ve thought? It figures.

Prince Play-It-Safe was afraid to sail.
He much preferred the trail over hill and dale.
Then a raging storm swept through the land.
And as he drowned away
He thought, Well, goddam.

Isn’t it Byronic . . .
Don’t you think?

It’s like rain, but it’s every day.
It’s a cold sneer for your bright-pink bouquet.
It’s borrowing funds that you just can’t repay.
And who would’ve thought? It figures.

Well, life has a funny way of
Creeping up on you when you think
Everything’s goin’ great.
Then, boom, you fall in love with your sister.

And life has a funny way of
Making you think everything’s goin’ just great.
Then, boom, you gotta go to Switzerland
’Cause you had sex with your sister.

It’s fighting for Greece and lookin’ all stoic,
When deep down inside, you’re antiheroic.
It’s like ten thousand pens when all you need is a quill.
It’s writing a poem for all time,
When you’re probably mentally ill.

And isn’t it Byronic . . .
Don’t you think?
A little too Byronic.
Yeah, I really do think.

It’s like rain, but it’s every day.
It’s attitude with your fresh Beaujolais.
It’s takin’ the piss on the day-to-day.
And who would’ve thought? It figures.

Well, life has a funny way of scandalizing you . . .
And life has a funny, funny way of wearing you out.
Wearing you out . . .

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