| They say ambition is an enemy of greatness
|
| And greatness is an enemy of fame
|
| When I pick up my guitar
|
| And I try to write a song
|
| I think of what my mentor used to say:
|
| «Who fucking gives a rat’s ass, Steve?
|
| Just write a love song
|
| 'Cause they’ll keep your belly full
|
| And your wallet lined
|
| Don’t bother these nice people
|
| With your sad sack songs
|
| If you ask me
|
| I think they’re just a waste of time»
|
| Inspiration is the best friend of my sorrow
|
| And sorrow is the best friend of my drink
|
| Well I wanna look myself in the eye tomorrow
|
| But I’m too worried about what other folks will think
|
| «Who fucking gives a rat’s ass, Steve?
|
| Just write a love song
|
| See a counselor
|
| If you need to ease your troubled mind
|
| And could you please sit over there
|
| I don’t want you crying in my beer
|
| Do you want some cheese with all that whine?»
|
| There’s a song that I keep trying to sing to no one
|
| But I’m afraid that it’s too short or it’s too long
|
| And to add to all the things that I’m afraid of
|
| The devil stopped sending me his songs
|
| And the troubles in my heart need to get let out
|
| The troubles in my heart need to escape
|
| And I never liked writing poetry
|
| And I never liked doing pottery
|
| And god knows that I never learned to paint
|
| So every now and then, I’ll sing a sad song
|
| 'Cause it keeps my spirit light, my conscience clean
|
| And if you don’t care to hear it
|
| I don’t mind if you go out for some air
|
| 'Cause I’m happy that you’re happier than me
|
| I’m happy that you’re happier than me
|
| I’m happy that you’re happier than me |