All I Ever Wanted

I’m sick of the band, i’m sick of this gig I’m sick of always being disappointed A lost popularity contest A missed opportunity knocking I’m sick of the fans, i’m sick of all three I’m sick of this shit i’m talking A farcical artistic calling What a bitch this is all i ever wanted 1 You walk into a live music venue Your name on the door third course on the menu The spelling is wrong but then maybe they’d struggle with Spelling John Lennon - still just fucking google it And that’s one more hit on your band page You’ve almost as many as candles on your cake Anyways let’s put that behind us You’re crossing the floor like a tumbleweed ball does It’s deserted there’s nobody stirring But emo is blaring for no fucking reason And you can’t be certain but you’d say the bouquet Is pissy urinal all backed-up since Tuesday With the stage? tucked-away in the corner Next to a plasma that crawls with footballers So you unload your gear as your heart sinks Hopefully soon the promoter will walk in Hopefully soon they’ll be punters arriving Hopefully listening rather than talking Hopefully wishful as this kind of thinking is You’ll be business in their opinions You know that you’re one in a million A million desperate voices Trying to be heard above all of the noise and just Making the noise that much noisier - pointless 2 Now a barmaid appears so you wander Up to the counter to order a vodka She ain’t impressed by these endless performers With all their requests for a pint of tap water So you give up even trying to talk to her Finally here comes the soundman, thank god But now then, he’s got his girlfriend so he’s not Concerned with, your setup aaaah fuck i give up?! The other acts turn up and tune up Guitars that cost more than you make in like 2 months The show must go and so you’re up Coz your set at not nine o’clock yet is now, son Okay you’re gonna do what you do best You’re here to make music, not friends You’re here to communicate something That transcends all that small talk we talk in And the crowd are swept up in the moment But you’re pissed you can count them on two hands And fuckloads of people will walk in The second your last song has ended You pack up your shit self-consciously Coupla handshakes and complements probably But your low self-esteem means nobody Dumb enough to like you is worth taking seriously [and that’s why i’m sick of gigs And constant disappointments They’re following me through the forest Do you know what it means to be haunted? And like page 52 of Blood Meridian I can hear the thunder of hundreds of horses Who else is this self-important? Who else is this boring?]