Nowadays, I only write in 3/4 or 6/8
What I play only sounds right with these chords,
Played this way.
I write cynical lyrics,
Masked with a melody.
Well thought out grievances,
Spoken more honestly.
Long winded metaphors,
But you know what I mean,
It’s worse than the tear in the condom you bought in the
Gas station bathroom vending machine.
Nowadays, all my friends don’t call me,
Or write me.
They all have somebody else who loves them,
Or needs them.
I’ve got nothing but strangers,
Masked with a memory.
Apathy warriors,
Invisible enemies,
Fear and self-loathing,
But I know you’ll agree,
It’s worse than the tear in the condom you bought in the
Gas station bathroom vending machine.
Nowadays, all my of songs just fade out.
I write cynical lyrics,
Masked with a melody.
Well thought out grievances,
Spoken more honestly.
Long winded metaphors,
But you know what I mean,
It’s worse than the tear in the condom you bought in the
Gas station bathroom vending machine.