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Mediocre |
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The happiness comes/On a floating wave/When his expression/Remains so bland/And the/Thoughtfulness finds/A tiny hiding place/When he frowns/So give them a prize/For being mediocre/I used to see him smile/I could once make him laugh/And that laughter brought/Joy on a cushion/That sat on a silver platter/But now/There is no laughter/And there is no peace/He is restless and sad/it's written in his eyes/So give them their prize/It's a given statement/He's become colder/And he won't laugh/He will not smile again/Because of them/So give them their prize/For they're so mediocre/I could make him laugh/And smile |
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All rights go to Joss Whedon |
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