YOUR MUSIC SUCKS (satire)

Waiting for my day to come, but it never did Bet it fucking hurts, doesn't it Hurts, doesn't it? Hurts, doesn't it You can't cry to me 'Cause I'm already done, already done, already done Tragic perfectionist, you fucking did this to me Tragic perfectionist, wish you saw through me Oh my God, remember when I was little And I said I was gonna be a pop star And tour around the world, and get my own little tour bus And live in a nice apartment in Los Angeles? Hahahaha I don't even wanna run away anymore, this is so fun Beat around the bush, tell me what you want, and I'll get it done I want my years and my potential back, you owe it to me, work for it Don't wanna complain, throw it all away, and call it fun Don't wanna complain, throw it all away, and call it fun