Lyrics:

Perhaps I'm slightly biased because I just finished watching American Beauty for the first time but I'm sitting here thinking about the worthless shithole we dig ourselves into and call a routine
And it's not just the everyman who's got it bad
Sure, his routine is the easiest to recognize: Get up, go to work, come home, sleep
Throw some meals in the mix there, too
But, everyone knows the everyman is a slave to routine
Art constantly points out the mundanity of the standard 9-to-5 life to the point where art that points of the mundanity of the standard 9-to-5 life has become incredibly mundane in and of itself
I can't fucking stand it

Everymen aren't the only people who drag themselves through a deliriously drab lifestyle
Making art can feel like a fucking chore sometimes
Sometimes I lack the inspiration required to make something great
But if I never make anything I'll starve to death
So I force myself to be creative and it doesn't always work because well over half the time I look at what I've made and I just immediately delete the file because I know what I've created is insufferable garbage that I can't allow to see the light of day
And I hate myself a little more because I just spent so much time creating something only to despise its very existence
And in those moments I relate to the everyman, working in an office for some corporate entity
He and I both spend innumerable amounts of energy doing something that won't ever affect us again

But I envy the everyman
For when he feels insignificant he can just look up to me
I do something that matters
I'm an artist
Everything I do is for passion and love
Life is fucking amazing
But when I look at my art and hate its existence and its meaninglessness
Who can I look at?
Who can I find solace in?

At least the everyman has me
Theoretically, no one's got it better than me
And knowing that makes me feel even worse
'Cause the shithole I've dug myself into is actually on top of the world, and down below me is even worse
Mundanity dwells in all of us
I'm supposed to make art out of love or passion but sometimes I've run thin when it comes to either of them
Nothing I do makes me run cold or jump around with excitement
I just hear it and I feel nothing
Now the music's stopped and I'm just sitting here rambling, wearing your patience thin as a listener
This song isn't good
This album isn't good
My last album wasn't good
My art is just worthless shit and I don't know why I fucking do it
'Cause I don't feel a fucking thing