Written during a pernicious bout of writers' block.
lyrics
It's too bad that I'll never write a song again
It's so sad that my creativity has reached an end
I've got nothing left to say
so pack it up, put it away
though it's too bad
it's too bad
I'll never taste the thrill of making stuff, no longer able
I should have based my whole identity on something stable
I can only look within
the light is getting pretty dim
though it's too bad
it's too bad
can't write a line
I think you will find
I'm really through
And it's true this time!
It wasn't true last time,
this time it's true!
It's too bad – but it's not the worst thing to transpire
it's so sad – but at least it's not an earthquake, plague, or fire
and I should feel blessed to sit
and not have to come up with shit
though it's not great
hey, hold on, wait—
it's too bad, though I thought I caught a tiny glimpse of wisdom
it's so sad that I'll never write a new song after this one
and though I love to sing
my brain's a pesky finite thing
though it's too bad
it's too bad
it's too bad
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