Your lyrics aren't fancy
They don't have any oblique pronouns
Who're you trying to impress, Clarice?
Without making people think, Clarice?
Without making it hard for your listener
Having to work to understand
You think I'm dumb?
Does it say a piece of sh*t is enough
For some fifth-rate composition?
You don't even talk about chimeras
You don't even know what a chimera is
It's a mythological creature
Always the same three chords
Look, a B-flat won't bite
No need to spare your fingers
Afraid to wear them out, Clarice?
Wouldn't it be better to use them, Clarice?
Just imagine, how awesome
How great, now a seventh
Isn't even good for a serenade
Doesn't even have a metaphor
And besides, it's kinda boring
So maybe you'll still keep