[Intro] (Aggressive, fast acoustic guitar strumming, very raw and percussive) [Verse 1] Crossing out the adjectives, killing all my darlings Sitting on a fire escape, listening to the starlings I don’t want the filler, I don't need the fluff I’m tired of the metaphor, enough is enough The L train is delayed and the rent is overdue I’m writing down a lyric that is actually true [Chorus] It’s Bedfstuy in the middle of the night I’m scratching out the ink until the formatting is right No corny little bridge, no predictable rhyme Just a singer-songwriter doing her time Yeah, the rhythm is frantic and the acoustic is loud Playing to an empty room, a nonexistent crowd [Verse 2] He asked me for a love song, I gave him a critique Of the socioeconomic status of the hipster clique I’m tapping on the wood of this secondhand guitar Trying to figure out exactly where the real chords are My fingers are calloused from the nylon and the steel I just want a sound that I can actually feel [Bridge] (Tempo slows slightly, intense vocal delivery over a single plucked string) Strike the ink. Cut the line. I don't need your notes, the manuscript is mine. [Chorus] It’s Bedfstuy in the middle of the night I’m scratching out the ink until the formatting is right No corny little bridge, no predictable rhyme Just a singer-songwriter doing her time Yeah, the rhythm is frantic and the acoustic is loud Playing to an empty room, a nonexistent crowd [Outro] Draft three. Delete it all. Start again. (Acoustic guitar string snaps audibly, song ends)
