“One, two, three, four—” This isn’t a real song, We’re just messing around. Trying to make the wrong notes Almost kind of sound… Alright. This isn’t a real song, But somehow it’s sticking in my head… We tried to write a banger, But the chords all came out strange. And every line we scribbled down Felt slightly deranged. So here we are pretending Like this take might be the one— [muffled laugh] But we all know already That we’re nowhere near done. This isn’t a real song, It’s a two-minute mistake. But something ’bout the way it falls Feels too good to break. Oh no… [laughs softly] This isn’t a real song, But now it’s living rent-free in my head… We promised this was nothing, Just a throwaway idea, But somehow every bar we play Keeps pulling us in nearer. The drummer’s getting fancy, The bass won’t let it die… Now half of us are laughing And the other half might cry. This isn’t a real song, Just a joke that went too far. But somehow now we’re singing it Like it might just be ours. Alright… This isn’t a real song, But I kinda hope this one somehow sticks around…
