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This song wrote itself
I had nothing to do with it
Came home late one night
My pencil and paper were thought with it

Should have spruced it up
I just didn’t have time that day
Melody is strange
Words aren’t much but they rhyme ok

This absence of substance
Is almost refreshing
To a soul as sad and
Serious as mine
To tell the truth
I wrote the changes on the bridge
And the words to the previous line

This song sings itself
It’s doing better than I could do
Now we could both relax
If only somebody would listen for you

A fairy song-mother
Is right down my alley
Sure beats some tight-lipped
Arbitrary muse
Might not be genius but
At least it’s not the usual
Another six-eight ballad
Or some re-heated blues

This song sells itself
Shamuses people I couldn’t stand
Goes to clubs I’d hate
Hangs all night with some loser’s band

Isn’t really fair
It’s so easy it must be wrong
How much do I care?
Gets down to it
A song’s a song
(aaagh)