I don't wanna write this song
And I don't wanna spend no more days and weeks on useless words
And I won't cater to the futility that hounds the every second
I try entertaining something else, too

It didn't have to be, but still it was
This song is broken triangle's concession

Thank the lord this is over
And thank the lord I'm here
Or this'd be devastating

I'm tired of drawing with the milk I spilled
On a table with so many luxuries that makes one feel as if made but to consume
I'd rather be the man that cries how his baby fled at the third drink on a downtown club

It didn't have to be, that's what I said but
I don't know no more
'Cause all these songs I've done, like monkeys with their barrel guns
Pushing rafts with cuca joints
Were the respite of my own immaturity

Thank the lord this is over
And thank the lord I'm here
And thank the lord this is over
And thank the lord I'm here
Or this'd be