You’d sing too 
if you found yourself 
in a place like this 
You wouldn’t worry about 
whether you were as good 
as Ray Charles or Edith Piaf 
You’d sing 
You’d sing 
not for yourself 
but to make a self 
out of the old food 
rotting in the astral bowel 
and the loveless thud 
of your own breathing 
You’d become a singer 
faster than it takes 
to hate a rival’s charm 
and you’d sing, darling
you’d sing too

-Leonard Cohen