Who I'm Singin' To

Chords

Step 1:
You write a simple chorus
Don't you bore us with an intro or a clever little verse
Step 2:
Stop pretending there’s some kind of formula for making it
I've never been so sure
Only time will tell me if I'm something
If I'm cursed or if I'm cunning
If I'm talented or stale
'Cause every song is an attempt to just impress you
It’s an educated guess to light a bulb or ring a bell

And here I am as I cut corners
On a left turn up a sentimental street
And all I do I do to make my parents proud
Of who I am or who I'm 'bout to be
Yeah, here I am
Gotta hand it to me
I can write a tune
I guess success just still depends
On who I'm singin' to

Working hard, feelin' tense, worrying about my fashion sense
Since when do I give up an inch to incidental tackiness
I'm disoriented, so distracted from my bit
But should I fight to force the issue when I'm out of lubricant to help this
To help my words come easy, to help to ease the heat we
Generate from friction wishin' inspiration wouldn't treat me
Like I'm a leper build me right up to the edge
Of a legend just to pull back leaving fame inside my head
I'm at an open mic, feeling like that token guy
"Please buy my CD's it's worth ten dollars but I'll take a five"
There's so much talent balanced on a rusty knife
Can I compete with guys who have been playing their entire lives?
For I am tied to mind my manners and my language
‘Cause “hecks” the only exclamation I can get away with
‘Cause my grandmas gonna listen to this and I still refuse
To sway her sweet opinion of me or lose her approval
But it'd be nice to emphasize the weight of what I say
Tell me which one will convince you that I'm finally okay?
I'm Okay, or
I'm Goddamn Okay!

And here I am as I cut corners
On a left turn up a sentimental street
And all I do I do to make my parents proud
Of who I am or who I'm 'bout to be
Yeah, here I am
Gotta hand it to me
I can write a tune
I guess success just still depends
On who I'm singin' to

I'm not a gambler but I bet you're esoteric
Tearing down these local artists as too poppy or generic
It's apparent you regard your judgment in such high esteem
But it's as welcome as Americans as tourists overseas I'm seein’
I'm seein’ people asking where they go to find my stuff
And yeah, I'm up on iTunes next to every band with 30 bucks
A dozen albums sold, to me it’s like a treasure,
But I guess I'm far from Guinness I'm not setting any records
And I'm making Indie music that may never top the charts
But like the greatest chef's will tell you: "my fanbase is getting larger"
I'm half a hermit, introverted if I'm honest
The fact I'm here's a testament to how badly I want it, cause I
I've no aversion to searching, to look or wonder
Or to try out different styles or to leave my zone of comfort
'Cause I flirt with burning candles, they'll either all extinguish
Or they'll blacken all my fingers till I lose all sense of feeling I like
I like my girls like I like my schedule: hectic
I like beauty, smarts, and talent but that orders alphabetic
I'm a sucker for independence, a girl who needs her space
I used to cling like static back when I was a teenager
I may never recapture the happiness of that first love
'Cause I was unaware of what a heartache really was
So now I guard a little harder lustin' for a crush
And I can see it’s so unhealthy when it bubbles up at once
I'm not breaking any ground I think this problem's pretty ancient
It’s the fabric of a classic passed down every generation
So to summarize this song for all the people that've been watching this
Find another artist if you don't like stream of consciousness