A poet turned thirty-six
He fought an army, and died the next day
It's a rabid dog who's passing away
It's a deformity; a foot with a crick
Isn't it Byronic, don't you think
It's inspiring Prometheus Unbound
It's a pet bear when they don't allow hounds
It's waking up, being suddenly renowned
Who would've thought, it figures
Mr. Don Juan was not afraid to fly
He packed his suitcase and kissed Ada good-bye
She spent her whole damn life on numbers and code
She died at thirty-six and thought
"Well, that's not that old."
And isn't it Byronic, don't you think
It's walking in beauty, just like the night
It's all that's best of dark and light
It's your cousin's wife mellowed in tender light
Who would've thought, it figures
Well, life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
When you think everything's okay and everything's going right
And life has a funny way of helping you out when
You think everything's gone wrong and everything blows up
In your face
A Maid of Athens stealing your heart
A Romantic movement, but ere we must part
It's like an epitaph to a dog you once had
It's meeting the girl of your dreams
And then learning you've got the same dad
And isn't it Byronic, don't you think
A little too Byronic, and yeah I really do think
It's walking in beauty, just like the night
It's all that's best of dark and light
It's your cousin's wife mellowed in tender light
So we'll go no more a roving
Well, life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
And life has a funny way of helping you out
Helping you out.
