Sympathy just doesn't mean. That much to me. Compassion's not. The fashion in my mind. And if you're looking for. A shoulder to cry on. Don't turn your head my way. 'Cause I'd rather have. My music any day. You and I are. Masters of our destiny. We look for consolation all the time. Until we find out things are not. What they were meant to be oh no. And if it doesn't suit our mood. We'll call it crime. Dedication's not an obligation. Or a figment of. Someone's imagination. It's the only way they say. To live from day to day. To make each passing way. A small sensation. Dreams are the possession of. The simple man. Reality the fantasy of youth. But living is a problem that. Is common to us all. With love the only. Common road to truth. .