I wish I'd written My Way
To me the perfect song
And when Sinatra sang it
I could listen all day long.
A sort of love hate relationship,
Not always to my choice
For time and life took
A certain toll of that voice.
But when he sang My Way
He really seemed to be
Singing my philosophy
Speaking straight to me.
So here's to Old Blue Eyes
For at the end of the day
Faults and warts and all
He lived his life his way
