It sometimes feels like a burden, I want to succeed, Is this a good quality, I wonder what's next, Nothing.
More and more it's an animal, Waiting to be seen, Faced with someone's failures. A sickening sight, indeed, indeed, indeed.
In the beginning it seems that no one Thinks beyond having fun which is why You write music in the first place always Moving, refining, pushing forward the art That one's creating, looking to the right Time to share it, and then the headaches Of criticism senior advisors unseen people Above twisting and distorting that which we Love, and never ending problems with Money holding you back preventing progress I thought you only started 'cause it was fun.
We play the blaming game, Yes I mind, its not your turn. We play the blaming game, Yes I mind, its not your turn.
We play the blaming game, Yes I mind, its not your turn. We play the blaming game, Yes I mind, its not your turn.
I wonder... I wonder... What's next.
'Cause we play the blaming game, Yes I mind, its not your turn. We play the blaming game, Yes I mind, its not your turn. We play the blaming game, Yes I mind, its not your turn. We play the blaming game, Yes I mind, its not your turn.
We play the blaming game... We play the blaming game.