There Are All Kinds Of Everything Poem by Peter S. Quinn

There are all kinds of everything,
But not for me, not for me;
There is that radio big thing,
But not for me, not for me;
For all I want to do is play and sing,
Play and sing.

There's all kind of twisting pleasures,
On the move and going nowhere;
Hidden Internet's streaming treasures
Here, but though mostly there,
Giving high hopes and some leisures.

Yes, there are all kinds of everything,
But not for me, not for me;
There is that puppet on a string,
But not for me, not for me;
For all I want is play and sing,
Play and sing.

I just sit and kind of wait,
Hoping still that I am not too late;
Finding out what I really want,
For there's so much to understand,
In this comprehensible debate.

There's all kind of trusty thing,
But not for me, not for me;
What hope will it then all bring?
If it's not for me, not for me.
'Cause all I want to do is play and sing,
Play and sing!