They say the pen
Is mightier than the sword
I write for a living
And I still wouldn't choose
Against sharp metal
That's for sure
The pen carries the ink
The hand writes the lyrics
Our minds know them all
Just sit down and hear it
Our hearts are the real heroes
Taming our overzealous minds
Without our hearts' guidance
We wouldn't know what to find
You still have to thank the bands
Who laid out the plans
And the people who stole our hearts
And meant it
But with such a busted heart
Who will guide your mind?
It's a domino effect
From deep down inside
In the end
You've gotta thank the listeners
Who listen to all the bad songs
And they knew all along
You'd do better
I suppose you could
Thank yourself a bit
All your insides
And your undying wit
You really pull these
Out of your appendix
And your thirst thereafter
Becomes relentless
I suppose you could
Thank yourself a bit
All you insides
And your undying wit
But that's the most of it...
All in all
Thank your parents
For giving you such a terrible life
You simply had to turn it around
Sometime
And I suppose you could
Thank yourself a bit
All Your insides
And your undying wit
But that's the most of it...
No need to big-headed...
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