I need to write a song. Not that I have to, I need to. I awoke like two hours ago. Diamond is still sleeping.
Maybe I could write a song about that? I watch you when you’re sleeping, I see that you’ve been weeping… But she hasn’t been weeping. Oh, come on, artistic freedom! She doesn’t even need to know I wrote about her.
But she always thinks I write about her. Even “the song about a hole” is about her, in her opinion. She accused me for being dirty. No, I don’t want to write about her.
Alright then, let’s start with something stupid… the chorus. Something that can be applied to anything. Hmm. You know that I love you, and can’t be without you, turn eighteen tomorrow and I can’t believe you… No, I’ll never leave you. That’s better.
You know that I love you, and can’t be without you
turn eighteen tomorrow and will never leave you.
That’s good. Cheesy, but good. I can work that into anything. So, what for the verse… Love? No, that’s boring. I always write about love.
Oh, crap, this is hopeless. I’m just sitting here, alone, a morning in ponyville, bored to death and I can’t even wake up my marefriend and make out with her to pass time… hmm… that’s an idea!
I sit alone, its break of dawn…hmmm… this day I think I move my lawn…Ehrm…no. Dawn…pawn, clown, down, drawn, barn, yawn… ok, why not.
I sit alone, it’s break of dawn, and I can’t holding back a yawn
This day will be just like before, a long and winding dreadful bore! Yeah! But the radio plays:
You know that I love you, and can’t be without you
turn eighteen tomorrow and will never leave you.
Do I really want to write about a boring pony? Ah, who cares, I’m on a roll here! Alright, now for the second verse… I am sixteen and tired of life… a bit too melodramatic… oh, what the hay, I can release it as a B-side. Living on the edge of a knife… no. An endless row of trouble and strife... ok, I can swing with that. This day just feels like a big “no”…hmm… and if it ain’t please let me know! Hah! Gold!
But the radio plays:
You know that I love you, and can’t be without you
turn eighteen tomorrow and will never leave you.
And then a bridge… I wish I was somepony else, a popstar, actress, bull from wales… oh, CELESTIA NO! A popstar, actress… else dosen’t rhyme with anything! Damn… I wish I was somepony new HA HA! A popstar, actress, princess too… I’ll get back to that one And no more mornings will be boring, no… I will have so much fun to do.
Aaaand chorus. Fade out.
That’s not that bad for thirty minutes of work! Some strings and horns, and I have a hit! Now I just need to…”oh, good morning, Liebchen!”
“You are a bad marefriend, Sweetie. No good morning kiss, no cuddling, no nuzzling, no… have you written a new song? Oh Oh Oh Sing it! Is it about me?”