Butch Walker - A Song for the Metalheads lyrics

1...9...6...9 Press the tape recorder, let's get this all down real fast Before the insignificant thought goes by There's one more slow song left to write for the record To make all the metalheads cry I throw rocks but not rocking, stand there just mocking With hands in their armpits that they'll later smell When you live in the past, there's one thing that will last Is resentment that time won't sit still The record business is f**ed, it's kinda funny It'll separate a boy from a man You can buy every copy of your record with your money But you'd be your only fan If it's one thing my father said when he was younger To a kid with a mullet who looked like his son To want and to try is the difference why Some people will walk and some run (Thank you Dad) Sharpen up all your pencils, cause cla** will come early There's so much you thought that you knew While the B List celebrities all pay for their fame They'll soak up what's left of the pool While a kid in the corner becomes a savant No one will care till he's dead Or he falls from his grace with it all over the place And a piece of it stuck in his head