Vārdi: Edwin McCain. The Austin Sessions. No Choice.

It was a love so big that it filled his heart, till it swelled and finally burst apart,when 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 thinking that the pain came much too soon, when he locked himself up inside his room, well it hurt real bad to write the tunes, but he never really had no choice, there were those that could not understand, why he built those castles with his hands, and he knew damn well they were on the 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, but he never really had no choice, it was a beautiful fire inside of him as he balanced way out on the limb, could have burned right through the branch so thin, 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, and they all talked about him when he died, they studied and they theorised, but when they were through they laughed and cried, but he never really never really had no choice, it was a love so big that it filled his heart, till it swelled and finally burst apart,when the love spilled out they called it art, but he never really had no choice, no he had no choice, no he never had no choice, when he gave his river a voice, he never really had no choice, no 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

(Thanks to Kacie for these lyrics)