Somewhere in this Landfill

[Intro] Okay, new song. Fresh idea. Blank page. No baggage. ... Why did I write “bluegrass death metal choir” at three in the morning? [Verse 1] I need a topic, give me something I can rap about Something kinda clever people haven't already mapped out Could write about the future — did that, jetpack, skyline Could write about tomorrow — nope, already used that line Could write about a robot who controls my whole apartment Did that too, gave him admin rights, regretted every part of it Could brag about weird things like impeccable drawer sorting Thirty-six songs in a day — somehow that's worth reporting Could write “please go to bed” eight times in the chorus Honestly that's probably more coherent than what's before us Could sing about deleting songs — dopamine explosion Could make it folk, then glitchcore, then trigger genre erosion Wait — somebody posted something sad Now I've got an idea No, that's basically their song Change the chords and disappear No, don't steal it Just get inspired Okay, but where's the line? If I rhyme “fire” with “desire” Do I owe Bon Jovi a dime? [Chorus] I got too many ideas and not enough ideas Twenty-seven titles and absolutely no themes here Don't wanna get political Don't wanna dodge it either Don't wanna spill my whole damn life But I don't wanna fake the feeling either Too many ideas Not enough ideas Everything is genius for approximately three beers— Wait, I don't drink beer See? Now the metaphor's lying Delete the whole verse Start again Why am I trying? [Verse 2] Maybe make it personal — Nope, that's getting way too personal Maybe make it universal — Great, now every line is meaningless and reversible “Life is like a road” Delete “Time is like a river” Delete “Love is like a fire” Congratulations, Shakespeare, take a seat Could write about the internet Could write about my friends Could write about everybody saying everything is ending Could write “we'll probably still be here tomorrow” Little hopeful Little bleak Little “I don't know these people But somehow we speak every week” Ooh, that's actually good Put that in another file Immediately abandon it And write about a crocodile No— A crocodile with Wi-Fi No— A sentient MIDI controller No— A guy who wins arguments by owning a better toaster Actually Write that down. [Pre-Chorus] Then I hear somebody else's track And suddenly my brain attacks I should do one like THAT But completely different Same emotional temperature Different instrumentation Maybe slower Maybe faster Maybe accordion NO. [Chorus] I got too many ideas and not enough ideas Twenty-seven titles and absolutely no themes here Don't wanna get political Don't wanna dodge it either Don't wanna spill my whole damn life But I don't wanna fake the feeling either Too many ideas Not enough ideas Every good concept turns into four competing careers I start with quiet acoustic song Then somehow forty minutes later It's industrial drum and bass With a barbershop narrator [Verse 3] Maybe this one needs a message People love a message Something deep and philosophical Packaged up for breakfast What do I believe today? Depends which draft you're reading One says everything is beautiful One says we are all receding One says turn it up, go crazy One's a sad bluegrass confession One has three choirs screaming Latin For absolutely no reason I've got folders full of masterpieces Nobody will hear Because I listened once at 2 AM And went eh, the snare is weird DELETE. Instant serotonin. Then twelve hours later Wait That one might've been good. Too late! Gone forever! Artistic judgment: flawless! Next song's called Deleting My Potential While Pretending It's a Process that's actually a title. Write that down too. [Bridge] Don't wanna copy Don't wanna preach Don't wanna overshare Don't wanna sound detached Don't wanna write another song About writing another song— That's what this is. This is literally a song About not knowing what song to write While listing songs I've already written And stealing ideas from myself tonight That's either extremely meta Or I've completely lost the plot But if the beat is good enough Nobody cares what I forgot [Final Chorus] I got too many ideas and not enough ideas Half of them are brilliant till I hear them through my real ears Don't wanna get political Don't wanna hide from anything Don't wanna turn my diary Into content people sing I wanna tell the truth Without explaining every scar Make something stupid Make something honest Maybe those are not that far Too many ideas Not enough ideas Blank page looking smug like “Okay, Shakespeare, what you got?” I got... A robot A mushroom cloud A unicorn A trap A choir A death growl A vase about to crack A jetpack A bad song A good song I deleted Thirty-six more uploads Nobody requested or needed And somewhere in this landfill There's probably something great— Hold on. “Somewhere in This Landfill.” That's the title. [Outro] New song. Fresh idea. Blank page. Wait, what rhymes with landfill?