Advantage: proGrammar - Kill Your (Final Fantasy) [clean version]
You shoulda listened to your parents' teachers' friends when they said
You must be dead in the head
Or higher than a deadhead
Or rebelling like a child sent to bed unfed
All the advantages that you have been given
For you to choose as a living
To pursue music -- about as amusing as the mews of a kitten
To whomever's the opposite of a cat lady
So dumb it couldn't be more done if it were sung by a fat lady
A crack baby stands a better chance of advancing to the head of her Mandarin class and getting a pass to study dancing in Nanjing
Than you do to put one or two of your boo-hoo songs up on YouTube in hopes of opening up for U2
After being discovered by the brother of some Hollywood Jew who happily introduces you to a veritable who's who of industry types
That's industry hype that's only seen in movies and teevee
It's about as fruitful as hunting for snipe, believe me
It's not enough to be a Wonder like Stevie or a King like B.B.
You also need God on your side like BeBe and CeCe
Whinin' 'bout your undiscovered talent's a waste of breath
Finding out that talent's beside the point's a taste of death
The life of an artist is amongst the hardest that one can choose
Those who go the farthest are the ones without a ton to lose
It's not for those who mostly wanna pay the bills and Sunday snooze
It's more for those who never had more fun than when they sung the blues
And if like tongue & groove you're not yet endlessly bored with this
Allow me to continue to explain what a whore this Euterpsichore is
Woe to the po' bastard enamored of her lyre and flute
Looking back on the disaster that's your life'll tempt you to filing suit
But, sadly, no one's successfully sued the daughter of a God and Goddess
Despite the fact she gets fools more hot and bothered than ripping off a bodice
Such that mere mortals must by comparison be belittled
The only way to date a musician's to play second to their fiddle
And most people, understandably'll be damned if they'll be so harmfully
Impositioned; even most musicians don't like to play harmony
Which means either a lonely life or a lonely wife or husband
And after years of splitting ears in silence you'll hear buzzing
Or high-pitched tones beside which phones' rings sound bass-y
Able only to imagine the immaculate majesty of Duke Ellington and Count Basie
Years of your life spent on the road driving a van
The highlight of your night is high-fiving a fan
Day after day playing every jook joint from Up North to Dixie
Stiffed by every limpdick club-runner; paid in shitty beer & whiskey
Your manager, the booker, the promoter, club owner, bouncer, bartender, soundguy all got paid; in other words, you got fucked but feel lucky if you got laid
She's not as hot as you thought, but you'll stay in the bed of the creepy hag
Rather than spend another night on some stranger's sticky floor in your sleeping bag
The cash from the single CD you sold pays for gas to the next town
And, strangely enough, if you should give up, you'd just be making space for the next clown
There's 20,000 bands from your hometown that'd kill to be where you are
And where you'd kill to be you're starting to realize ain't really too far
Maybe it's not too late to become an accountant...