[Hook] Got to sometimes feel like, oh my god, life's so good [Verse 1] I'm on the cover of a lot — a lot! — of magazines Note I don't say all. But I've been practicing My big TV grin and charming banter Interviewers, always follow-upping on the answers Prancers such as I lift heels up Get your people here, we'll set some deals up But don't fuss my pretty little with the chores I'm critically acclaimed and I'm never ignored Now, notice that none of that's true Frontalot got inauthentic at you? What else is new? What else to do but keep on seeming Like a celebration lyric could be anything redeeming? [Hook] [Verse 2] I write the songs you can't get out of your head And my artistic accomplishments are often said To soften dread in the hearts of the reviewers: "another tour de force from the performer who inures All listeners to the ravages of cynicism With the pure and simple freshness of his syllogism." Listen, isn't this the case: critical darlings Always are unbeloved of the ma**es; in the parlance Of the populace, they s**. And since I'm awful Just an air gust that holds aloft the copter of the ROFL It's obvious why I'm such a critic's to-do But when Frontalot discusses it, is anything true? [Hook] [Verse 3] And I quote, "His interrogation of failing to keep it real Disa**embles the meaning inherent and then reveals Artifice itself to be integral to veracity." ...part of a 5-star notice posted about the last CD I'm at capacity, I overflow with fronting (That was a good point once, but I fear it suffers blunting.) Let me simply tell you something: the living is good Up on the top of the top-ten lists where I just stood In my fist, where the disc should be brandished like a trophy Instead I'm holding onto the prize possession: self-loathing And you know life's sweet if you can sing about that Like I rolled nat 20, double damage on the track [Hook]