Patrick Goble - The Process lyrics

Holy f**ing sh**! He wrote another f**ing song Why does he keep on writing them when hope has long been gone? He may not be Gaga, Miley, Jackson, or the King But let me tell you why this bearded f** has got to sing Twenty-four/seven, 3-6-5 days of the year In his mind the music plays 'a blasting in his ears A-B-C-D-E-F-G, the notes now play themselves And on the staff, the notes they dance like bearded f**ing elves It's just his process, how he makes himself/(sense of) this wreck It's just his process. Send him a motherf**ing check It's just his process, how he makes himself/(sense of) this wreck It's just his process. Send him a motherf**ing check He'll write a f**ing song for every dick that's ever lived Pop, blues, rock, funk, dance, and trance—the man just wants to give Now open up your ears to him, you silly f**ing sod And blast his jams from noon till night so loud you'll wake up God Early in the morn when normal folks are getting up He's pounding keys and riding strings like monster f**ing truck Eighth notes on his Cheerios and quarters in his tonic He's regular like fiber man and sh**s a philharmonic Twenty-four/seven, 3-6-5 days of the year In his mind the music plays 'a blasting in his ears A-B-C-D-E-F-G, the notes now play themselves And on the staff, the notes they dance like bearded f**ing elves Holy f**ing sh**! He wrote another f**ing song Why does he keep on writing them when hope has long been gone? He may not be Gaga, Miley, Jackson, or the King But let me tell you why this bearded f** has got to sing It's just his process, how he makes himself/(sense of) this wreck It's just his process. Send him a motherf**ing check It's just his process, how he makes himself/(sense of) this wreck It's just his process. Send him a motherf**ing check