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