I just spent a night, cleaning my kitchen Killing time, instead of writting songs I'm terrified that even if you listen I won't have anything to say at all I'm so sorry if ive ever written A line that sounded trite, but just not true I promise it was never my intetion To act like I know what you're going through See I got a microphone, and I'm on the radio But that doesn't mean I know, hopes and fears So I can not assume, I know what to sing for you I can only write the songs, I need to hear I need to hear, I don't need all the answers But questions, are a danger to the truth I need to hear that what I'm doing matters But I'm loved, for who I am, not for what I do