[Spoken Intro: Mumbled, Offhand] One, two— No, I know when to come in. ...Two, three, four! [Band Enters: Layered Open-Chord Guitar Riff] [Verse 1: Restrained Vocal, Steady Backbeat] We had a row on Tuesday, by Wednesday he was gone. He packed the hooks and harmonies and every decent song. He took the clever couplets, the ones the papers quote. He left me with the sunglasses, the walk, and half a coat. [Pre-Chorus: Tambourine Enters, Guitars Widen] Now everybody’s asking, “Who’s gonna write the hits?” I point straight at my cheekbones: “Have a look at this.” [Chorus: Layered Rhythm-Guitar Wall, Subtle Vocal Double] He took the talent, I kept the swagger. He took the verses, every one. I’ve got a voice like a busted intercom, but I’ll still make you sing along. He took the talent, I kept the swagger. He took the pen, I took the stage. He’s got a notebook full of genius— I’ve got my face across the page. [Verse 2: Restrained Vocal, Steady Backbeat] He writes about tomorrow with metaphors and rain. I rhyme “tonight” with “alright” and use them both again. He calls it composition, I call it wasting time. Just give me a tambourine and somewhere I can shine. [Pre-Chorus: Tambourine Enters, Guitars Widen] The label wants a single. The band says, “Write it quick.” I put my shades on indoors: “That’s basically a hit.” [Chorus: Layered Rhythm-Guitar Wall, Subtle Vocal Double] He took the talent, I kept the swagger. He took the verses, every one. I’ve got a voice like a busted intercom, but I’ll still make you sing along. He took the talent, I kept the swagger. He took the pen, I took the stage. He’s got a notebook full of genius— I’ve got my face across the page. [Instrumental Interlude: 4 Bars, Chiming Guitar Hook] [Bridge: Half-Time, Sparse Guitars, Restrained Vocal] Maybe I should ring him, say I know I did him wrong. But apologies need lyrics— and he took those with the songs. [Instrumental Build: Drums Return, Rhythm Guitars Layer Gradually] [Final Chorus: Full Guitar Wall, Subtle Vocal Double] He took the talent, I kept the swagger. He took the verses, every one. I’ve got a voice like a busted intercom, but I’ll still make you sing along. He took the talent, I kept the swagger. He took the pen, I took the stage. He’s got a notebook full of genius— I’ve got my face across the page. [Spoken Outro: Narrow Intercom Filter, Deadpan] “Talent? Nah, mate. He moved out.” [Final Sustained Guitar Chord] [End]
