I don't know how artists make music. I don't know where they get their fucking envy-worth lyrics from. I guess they'r just born with 'it'. You know, the gift of words and musical notes. Because I tried to write some, and it was trash. I tried to come up with my own tune. It was worse than trash. But hey, at least I did try.


There's a reason why I'm writing this song
There's something you really ought to know
But first I need words,
I swear I'll tell you the truth

Remember the fisrt time we met?
It was I who smiled first
You walked up to me
You smelled like summertime
Boy, it made me want to cry

But I need words to lead me along,
I'm starting this all wrong
He was standing just behind
you, walked up to me and it was gone,
the would-be payback smile
that's what made me want to cry

So here's the reason I'm writing this song
I guess you must already know
let me put this the best way I can

Yesterday I ran out of gas
down around along the countryside
someone drove slowly past
(it was him) offered to give a ride
He smiled and I started to cry
inside. deep inside.