Well I'm sorry about my voice.
I wish I liked anything else as much as I like this
But sadly it's my choice, and not something else that I'll do just to please you
With a guitar on my back, I'm gonna do just fine
Now I've got one year to get rich so as to pay the bills that I'll have to pay once
I'm out of here
Cause you know, I heard that musicians always starve to death
At least I hope I won't starve to death
Let me tell you what's wrong, it's not just getting underpaid, more like being raped
By some smartass producer who thinks it's his job to deceive bands
Here's some common practice: send me your best song and $500 in cash
Maybe you'll get to play
I'm so tired of listening how we can't play, how we must pay just to play
How we've got to go commercial
The irony of running away is that it won't solve any problem
Well I guess I'm going away this time
Now it's time to get a job, pick a place and work your ass off for this dream
Now it's time to say goodbye to all our friends and all of those who've passed us by
It's time to get a job, it's time to pick a place and work your ass off for this dream
Write a song, save a buck, in a year we'll all be gone to a far away and really distant land
Where our music could be better regarded than a hobby gets to be
And people can appreciate it for what it is
This is what it is