These Songs

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