VERSE 1:

And why do we try so hard

when we don't stand a chance.
You really can't get too far
when all you have is innocence for a

love, love, love...

REFRAIN 1:


So we'll go on,
keep on losing,

'cause nobody
will like our music.
But that's a concept,

so we'll use it
in underground scenes
to set our music.


VERSE 2:


And don't be afraid to drown
in the sea of media-cracy.
It's really not our own sound

so much as our obscurity.
So BREAK!
We don't need no fancy track,

just a crappy lo-fi drumbeat
and some shouting in the back.
And we'll just pass it off as quirky,

it's not dirty,
it's just indie.
Hear the calls of critics crying

as they praise our sonic dying.
And (Aaaaaahhhhhhh!)
How incredulous,

the war of words is won.

REFRAIN 2:


So now they'll think hard,
sit and brood, yeah,

as they try to
define our music.
Hey that's our image,

so don't confuse it.
Silly words for
our silly music.

And slowly the passion dies...

(Wonderfully Spacey Instrumental Interlude)


BRIDGE:


And it's no use now.
I can't choose now.
I'm reclusive,

fame's elusive.
Why feign pain to fill the measures?
Why sing songs that aren't even true?