These Songs - Astronautalis, Factor Chandelier, Fadeaway Jumpers

I don’t want to write these songs no more

I don’t want to have these thoughts at all

I don’t want to break your god-damned heart

But I haven’t got the choice

I don’t want to rip your world apart

I don’t want to guide you through the dark

I don’t want to write these god-damned songs

But I haven’t got the choice

I didn’t know people

But I know people that knew people

And that’s as close as anyone should hope to come to evil

Walking around the arrondissement, a year after that evening

I saw every single armed Gendarme and I got tired of that feeling

They say write what you know

And I know that I’m as angry as you

And I can’t shake it off me, yo

I can’t turn off the damn news

We’re drowning in it now, a Fox News monsoon

A Huff-Po hurricane of clickbait and bad news

Ahhh!

We Centralia, Pennsylvania

Got a fire burning in us, boy

That no one can extinguish

I’m getting tired of the feeling

We’re incapable of saying

Anything that ain’t a hashtag

Y’all know I ain’t playing!

Save me from those safety pins and

All those damn red hats

Its all the same old jingoism

Waving all new flags

And I don’t want no parts of this

But look at where I’m at

I can’t write no fucking songs

Man, I’m done with all that

I don’t want to write these songs no more

I don’t want to have these thoughts at all

I don’t want to break your god-damned heart

But I haven’t got the choice

I don’t want to rip your world apart

I don’t want to guide you through the dark

I don’t want to write these god-damned songs

But I haven’t got the choice

We were an hour outside of Paris when the Bataclan blew

We were about to fly to Moscow when they shot that plane down too

My own government was tapping phones, the fuck I’m supposed to do?

I’d rather have written «Bad and Boujee» but I «Cut The Body Loose»

And that’s the truth

Man, instead of writing pop songs

I’ve been writing about PRISM and reading too much Glenn Greenwald

Is this enlightenment or prison?

I don’t know, but this ain’t me, y’all

Yeah, the pot is boiling over

Ya boy need to let some steam off

Should I turn the TV screen off?

Grab my wife, hop on the bike and fucking just go speed off?

Delete my Twitter, Instagram, my Facebook, and just be done?

Jump off the grid, say fuck this shit

And go and write in the sun, man?

'Cause I already wrote these fucking songs

I exorcised these demons, laid them down for everyone

Why we gotta bring up old shit, open the same old wounds?

Honestly, I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do

Because

I don’t want to write these songs no more

I don’t want to have these thoughts at all

I don’t want to break your god-damned heart

But I haven’t got the choice

I don’t want to rip your world apart

I don’t want to guide you through the dark

I don’t want to write these god-damned songs

But I haven’t got the choice

No I haven’t got the choice

No I haven’t got the choice

No I haven’t got the choice

No I haven’t got the choice

No I haven’t got the choice

No I haven’t got the choice

No I haven’t got the choice

No I haven’t got the choice