Pantry splits

We entitled few spend our days sitting in our rooms
Recording stupid music to impress I don't know who

I play cheesy riffs that you could never hear live
Studio magic is real, enjoy my sonic lie

I could be going to school, I could be spending my time
Trying to make the world a better place to be alive
Could be getting a drink I could be talking to girls
But no, one more chorus here give a whirl

And all this time I'm wasting making music nobody likes
I feel the world is waiting for me to get a life
With some luck and timing I'll get a few facebook likes
For the music I make thats ruining my fucking life

We write lyrics to appear more artistic
Though we've never missed a meal or been remotely sick
I'll be internet famous maybe one day
Who needs a stupid fucking prechorus anyway (not me)

Write, write on. And hate the creations more
But that is the struggle: That's what I signed up for
Write, write on. And feel a little worse every day
But the product is worth it, I wouldn't have it any other way