Who I'm Singin' To

Step 1, write a simple chorus don’t bore
us with an intro or a clever little verse
step 2, stop pretending theres some kind of
formula for making it I’ve never been so sure
only time will tell me if I’m something,
if I’m cursed or if I’m cunning, if I’m talented or stale
cause every song is an attempt to just impress you,
its an educated guess to light a bulb or ring a bell
And here I am as I cut corners on a left turn up a sentimental street
All I do I do to make my parents
proud of who I am or who I’m 'bout to be
Here I am gotta hand it to me, I can write a tune
I guess success just still depends on who I’m singing to
Working hard, feeling tense, worrying about my fashion sense
Since when do I give up an inch to incidental tackiness
I’m disoriented, so distracted from my bit
but should I fight to force the issue when I’m out of lubricant
to help this, to help my words come easy, to help to ease the heat we
generate from friction wishin' inspiration wouldn’t treat me
like I’m a leper build me right up to the edge
of legend just to pull back leaving fame inside my head
I’m at an open mic, feeling like that token guy
«Please buy My CD’s its worth 10 dollars but I’ll take a five»
so much talent balanced on a rusty knife
can I compete with guys who have been playing their entire lives?
For I am tied to mind my manners and my language
cuz 'hecks the only exclamation I can get away with
cuz my grandmas gonna listen to this and I still refuse
to sway her sweet opinion of me or lose her approval
but it’d be nice to emphasize the weight of what I say
tell me which one will convince you that
I’m finally okay? I’m Okay, or I’m Goddamn Okay
And here I am as I cut corners on a left turn up a sentimental street
All I do I do to make my parents
proud of who I am or who I’m 'bout to be
Here I am gotta hand it to me, I can write a tune
I guess success just still depends on who I’m singing to
I’m not a gambler but I bet you’re esoteric
tearing down these local artists as too poppy or generic
it’s apparent you regard your judgement in such high esteem
but it’s as welcome as americans as tourists overseas I’m seein
I’m Seein people asking where they go to find my stuff
A dozen albums sold, to me its like a treasure,
But I guess I’m far from guiness I’m not setting any records
and I’m making Indie music that will never top the charts
but like the greatest chef’s in Paris my fanbase is getting larger
I’m half a hermit introverted if I’m honest
the fact I’m here’s a testament to how badly I want it
I’ve no aversion to searching, to look or wonder
or to try out different styles or to leave my zone of comfort
cause I can flirt with burning
candles but they’ll either all extinguish
or they’ll blacken all my fingers
till I lose all sense of feeling I like
I like my girls like I like my schedule — hectic
I like beauty, smarts and talent but that orders alphabetic
I’m a sucker for independence a girl who needs her space
because I used to cling like static back when I was a teenager
I may never recapture the happiness of that first love
'cause I was unaware of what a heartache really was
so now I guard a little harder lusting for a crush
and I can see its so unhealthy when it bubbles up at once
I’m not breaking any ground I think this problem’s pretty ancient
its the fabric of a classic passed down every generation
So to summarize this song for all
the people that’ve been watching this
find another artist if you don’t like stream of consciousness