Them Old Songwriting Blues

E
Well, it's three in the mornin', 
should be sleepin' in my bedroom
    A
Not sittin' in this cellar like some
 silly damn mushroom
   E                               
My brain is hurtin', I think it 
         B
just blew a fuse
            E
I've smoked enough cigarettes to 
kill a camel
      A
Drunk enough black coffee to fill 
the English Channel
    E                  B 
And oh, Mama, got them old 
              E
songwritin' blues

[Verse 2]
E
I've been writin' this song for what
 seems like forever
      A
Doin' bad things to my lungs and 
worse things to my liver
  E                                
I ain't got many organs left I can 
B
abuse
E
I'm gonna try to stop writin' songs,
 I swear
             A
Do somethin' easy like wrestlin' 
grizzly bears
    E                   B
And oh, Mama, got them old 
              E
songwritin' blues

[Bridge]
A
Oh, Mama, why didn't I listen to you
         E
When you told me not to be a 
musician
     A
Oh, Mama, at least I didn't shame 
you completely
    B
And become a politician

[Verse 3]
       E
Havin' trouble with my meter, and 
trouble with my rhymin'
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  A
I wish to God that I was Paul Simon
     E                             
That little smartass has more 
              B
talent than he can use
E
I try to write my songs deep and 
esoteric
         A
But they just come out the same old 
Eric
    E                  B 
And oh, Mama, got them old 
              E
songwritin' blues

[Verse 4]
E
And if I finish this song, who'll 
appreciate it?
  A
I know the critics are gonna hate it
        E                          
They'll roast me like a lamb chop 
          B
at a bar-b-que
E
They'll all say, "He's a one-hit 
wonder
        A
Written nothin' since 'The Band 
Played Waltzin' Matilda' "
    E                  B 
And oh, Mama, got them old 
              E
songwritin' blues

[Bridge]
    A                              
And why do I write all my songs in 
    E
the key of D?
A                                 
Why don't I try another one like -- 
B
umm-err-umm --
E
I think my mind's beginnin' to go
        A
I just found myself wishin' I was 
Barry Manilow
E                  B              
Oh, Mama, got them old songwritin' 
 E
blues

[Instumental]
E A E B E A  E B E

[Bridge]
    A                           E
And why do I torture myself the way 
that I do?
   A                               
Be easier bashin' my skull in with 
  B
a lump of four-by-two

[Verse 5]
E
I've tried to sing this song in an 
American accent
    A
I'm told my Scottish burr is too 
much of a distractment
   E                            
At least that's what they say in 
         B
their reviews
E
And deejays dishin' out their music 
valium
     A
Will say, "It's too long, son, it 
ain't got any drums"
    E                  B 
And oh, Mama, got them old 
              E
songwritin' blues

[Verse 6]
E
So I sit here like a dummy nearly 
crying with frustration
    A
Songwritin's just an exercise in 
mental masturbation
   E                             
Deserted by that fickle jade they 
          B
call the Muse
      E
She's out there somewhere laughin' 
at me
        A
Sayin', "Son, go back to 
accountancy!"
    E                  B 
And oh, Mama, got them old 
              E
songwritin' blues

[Otro]
 E                  B             
Oh, Mama, got them old songwritin'
  E
 blues
 E                  B             
Yes, Mama, got them old 
  E
songwritin' blues