Im tired of pretending that Im any good at singing,
Cause my vocal cords crack and groan at every note,
Maybe I don't drink enough water,
or maybe my throat is just sick of me singing.

I don't know anything more than four cords,
My guitar doesn't see much use except abuse,
Although my piano just might be a *******,
I'm just a fool with a tool to speak his muse.

I wanna find it inside of myself,
A driving passion to bring money home,
Cause I'm sitting here with nothing,
Except a couple dollars to my name.

The poems I write are far too basic,
Nobody likes them but to be fair neither do I,
I can't show my face to anybody now,
Cause the porcelain is beginning to break.

It's chipping away, away, away...
Down the drain, away, away, away...
And now I sway, away, away, away...
In my room as a dull tool who loves music,
away, away, away...