Somebody deep in the circuit once said to me
With a wise wink of their eye
That if it doesn't need fixing
Break it
But imagine being lectured by bands like ours that do nothing
Songwriters who can't sing
Programmers who won't dance
A certain guile time-stretched in derivative style
Makes love to all but'll end up loving none
And that it all gets written off about after
In perfect bound magazines that can't write
By freelancers who can't afford to drink like they did
Hey what are your tips, what are your tips
Should I go into coalition with the sun
Plagiarize bodies in the backs of Uber pools
Abandon the campus novel, turn in at nine
Fly through windows into schools of anatomy
I wish to unwrite every stolen verb
And see it still exists a full poem
And unsettle for every unpaid word
♪
They don't love you, they don't love me
We don't look like a local, a local God
They don't love you, they don't love me
We don't look like a local, a local God
A local, a local, a local, a local, a local, a local
We don't look like a local God
♪
I am going into coalition with the sun
Plagiarized bodies in the backs of Uber pools
Abandoned the campus novel, turn in at nine
Fly through windows into schools of anatomy