| It was a love so big that it filled his heart
|
| 'Til it swelled and finally burst apart
|
| And where the love spilled out they called it art
|
| But he never really had no choice
|
| Oh, he had no choice
|
| No, he never had no choice
|
| When he gave his river a voice
|
| He never really had no choice
|
| He was thinkin' that the pain came much too soon
|
| When he locked himself inside his room
|
| Oh it hurt real bad to write that tune
|
| But he never really had no choice
|
| And there were some who could not understand
|
| When he built those castles with his hands
|
| And he knew damn well they were only sand
|
| But he never really had no choice
|
| Oh, he had no choice
|
| No, he never had no choice
|
| When he gave his river a voice
|
| He never really had no choice
|
| Sometimes a man, sometimes a boy
|
| He made some music and he made some noise
|
| But he felt his pain and he felt his joy
|
| And he never really had no choice
|
| There was a beautiful fire inside of him
|
| As he balanced way out on that limb
|
| Could’a burned right through that branch so thin
|
| But he never really had no choice
|
| Oh
|
| It was a love so big that it filled his heart
|
| ‘Til it swelled and finally burst apart
|
| And where the love spilled out they called it art
|
| But he never really had no choice
|
| Oh, he had no choice
|
| No, he never had no choice
|
| When he gave his river a voice
|
| He never really had no choice
|
| Oh, he had no choice
|
| No, he never had no choice
|
| When he gave his river a voice
|
| He never really had no choice
|
| He never really had no choice
|
| He never really had no choice |