(Verse 1) I stare at the screen, my coffee getting cold I hunt for a story that's not been told The weekly deadline's coming, the Sunday song is due Seven days have passed, and I don't have a clue I'm pacing round the living room, looking at the floor Waiting for my muse to help, but we got no rapport. (Chorus 1) The Suno Sunday blues have got me in a bind Searching for a concept that I just can't find Where did all the good ideas go? Nothing's coming, and time is my foe I'm digging through the attic of my brain Looking for a spark, but it's in vain. (Verse 2) Scrolled my notes for forty minutes straight This week's ideas just aren't that great I tried a ballad for a slightly bruised banana And a heavy metal opera about a guy named Santa Wrote down "birds." Crossed it out. Wrote "taxes." Same. Wrote "heat death of the universe" — too big to frame (Chorus 2) It's a parade of the absurd, a circus in my head Every notion that arrives belongs behind the shed I'm sifting through the rubbish, panning in the mud But every single concept just lands with a heavy thud Not one is worth the breath to sing the line There's a melody waiting on a missing storyline. [Verse 3] A country-western heartbreak over stepping on a Lego? A disco number for a man who lost his alter-ego? A Gregorian chant about the price of gasoline? A synth-pop exploration of a broken washing machine? The worst collection of subjects that there's ever been I'm scraping at the barrel and the bottom's wearing thin. [Bridge] So this is where I'm bound Sing about nothing, call it profound Nobody listens to the words anyway If the hook is good, it's fine either way. (Verse 4) So here's the anthem to writer's block An ode to nothing, a tribute to the blank The ideas I tried to float that all just sank No epic tales of glory, no tear-jerkers today Just a track about someone with nothing to say. (Outro) Yeah, nothing to say. Wait — that banana idea... Nah, never mind.
