You're about to watch a show starring me
I don't know what you're about to hear or see
The truth is I have no plan at all
There's a good chance that off this stage I fall
My body ain't what it quite used to be
My hair ain't the colour it once was
My style icon is Emmylou Harris
Mixed with a little Don Was
I lie on stage, I lie in songs, I lay my troubles down
Hey, stick it out with me, kid
I mean, what else is there to do
In this godforsaken, deep-fried-bacon town?
Yeah, you bought the tickets, you paid the cash
You got in your car, you moved your ass
You brought a friend or an an awkward date
To something you love that they're probably gonna hate
It's music, sweet music
I'm emo, I'm screamo
I'm country and I'm folk Americana
If you wanna, I'm old-fashioned but I'm woke
I'm everything to everyone
I'm Jesus and I'm booted too
Don't panic, I'm organic
I'm too scared to be satanic
But mostly, I'm just here to sing for you
Well, I played a lot of shows across this world
But, tonight's the best I'll ever play
I'm handing you a pearl
My g-string might snap in two
My face might turn from red to white to blue
But, it's not because I'm dying, hey, I'm just patriotic
When we all connect like LEGOs
Yeah, we all are symbiotic
I die on stage, I die in songs, I throw my troubles down
Hey, stick it out with me, kid
I mean, what else is there to do
In this craft-beer-makin', earthquake-shakin' town?
Yeah, you bought the tickets, you paid the cash
You got in your car, you moved your ass
You brought a friend or an an awkward date
To something you love that they're definitely gonna hate
It's music, sweet music
I'm emo, I'm screamo
Oh, I'm grateful dead-post-stroke Americana
If you wanna, I'm old-fashioned but I'm broke
I'm everything to everyone
I'm Jesus and I'm booted too
Don't panic, I'm organic
I'm too scared to be satanic
But mostly, I'm here to sing for you
Well, I know what you're thinking, "What the hell?"
This guy just wrote a whole entire song about himself
And the truth is, I do it all the time
Well, for me, it's therapeutic and I hope that you don't mind
Well, I probably owe you money
'Cause you're my therapist
But, I'm kinda' like your escort away from all of this
I cry on stage, I cry in songs, I try to work it out
Hey, stick it out with me, kid
I mean, what else is there to do
In this hemp-clothes-makin', tincture-takin', sourdough bakin'
Late-day-wakin', spare-change-takin', traffic-makin'
Release-the-kraken, I-must-be-mistaken
I'm-in-the-wrong town?