Back of my head, I feel a dull ache From staring too long at a blank page I just don’t have anything to say It’s all been done It’s all been done These days I find it hard To even start Not much is left until I tear It all apart Everything that I’ve written so far Not good enough Not good enough
Maybe I, maybe I Will never feel I got it right, got it right I guess I’ll let you decide, you decide But I have my doubts (Oooh)
Maybe I, maybe I Should try again another time Another time I forget to live a life Live a life Worth writing about