I'll smile wide until my mouth consumes my face and body   Maybe my life is fine but I'm finding inside   Is just a mass of a million people I've met   And it's not making any sense      All these words mean nothing   But if modern art is so apprehensible    Why can't I find meaning an anything I think   It should flow from my mind to my mouth I know   The idea never reaches my brain   I don't want it to be this way      I'd sell my soul for a thought of my own   It's cryptonesia where ever I go   I don't have drinkin or religion   To help me with my singin   I have no inspiration of my own      Maybe it's pretentious   To speak of a subject I know nothing about   And it's definitely pathetic   That I try to think of a thought   I just sing about my writers block   It's sad, it's sad, it's really fucking sad      And if I did have a thought   It'd just blend into the chorus of extras   Chanting rhubarb and sarsaparilla   Oh my thoughts don't mean anything to anybody anyway