We entitled few spend our days sitting in our rooms Recording stupid music to impress I don't know who I play cheesy riffs that you could never hear live Studio magic is real, enjoy my sonic lie I could be going to school, I could be spending my time Trying to make the world a better place to be alive Could be getting a drink I could be talking to girls But no, one more chorus here give a whirl And all this time I'm wasting making music nobody likes I feel the world is waiting for me to get a life With some luck and timing I'll get a few facebook likes For the music I make thats ruining my fucking life We write lyrics to appear more artistic Though we've never missed a meal or been remotely sick I'll be internet famous maybe one day Who needs a stupid fucking prechorus anyway (not me) Write, write on. And hate the creations more But that is the struggle: That's what I signed up for Write, write on. And feel a little worse every day But the product is worth it, I wouldn't have it any other way