Willard! Lyrics

This is a desk job, a data entry five-to-niner

Yeah, I guess I'm my own boss, but everyone's my supervisor

Tell me what kind of living legend would only want a living wage?

Because I just turned 27 and I'm dying of old age.

Guess I'm just selfish. I wanna have but not be had

And I think "can I sell this?" The rainfall's a windfall the fourth wall a paywall

Whenever things get bad

So this is what I choose to do with my redeeming quality

That thing that came from the same place as my instability

It's not a gift if you pay for it and I don't want no charity

I spent all my years to end up right here, and now

I really think I'd rather leave

Cause I hate sex, I hate drugs, and I hate rock n' roll

And I hate music and my lack of self-control

And I hate sex, I hate drugs, and I hate rock n' roll

And I hate proving that I'm still human after all

It's the death of the author, you read between white chalk outlines

Well if the pen's that much stronger, then call this Harakiri as I kamikaze to my career suicide

I hate these Easter bunny encores, 2 and 4 beat claps

Stockade stages, applause and praise, and trying to chuck tomatoes back

News-feeds, groupies, critics, analytics, and

Starry-eyed stalkers who demand a man in lipstick

And a role model psycho but an echo in their chamber

Martyr to their dollar but a baby in a manger

Effigy on the alter: the parish they brandish their

Torches and sway to this love song

Screaming

"Virginia, walk on my water!"

Their apocryphal daughters with Nerf armor and AR's who want me

Caught with red hands cut my wrists and make me put white gloves on

So go ahead sure, drink my Kool-aid, it wouldn't mix well with my meds

But there's demand and a market for my brand-scars, and I can't treat the trademarks in my head

I hate to be "that guy," but I'm not that guy anymore and I made God damn sure he's dead

And I would dance on his grave, but the music I play seems to say take me instead. So

I hate sex, I hate drugs, and I hate rock n' roll

And I hate music and my lack of self-control

And I hate sex, I hate drugs, and I hate rock n' roll

And I hate music, yeah, I hate you kids

And I hate putting up fourth walls

And I hate proving that I'm still human after all

I hate proving that I'm still human