rules:

1. shut the fuck up about weezer

2. stop self-promoting your songs go to /r/wearethemusicmakers or something

3. better yet just don't post anything in here at all

4. Not by my own hand Automatic writing by phantom limb Not with my own voice Pleurisy made to stand on two legs That's how I bar my door In this age of blasting trumpets A paradise for fools Infinite wrath In the lowest deep, a lower depth I don't want to hear those vile trumpets anymore Conscience wakes despair The night is an accumulation of dark air The scholar will be forever poor Gross gold runs headlong to boor I don't want to hear those vile trumpets anymore Call me Heraclitus the Obscure Constantly weeping because the river doesn't move It doesn't flow It's been leaded by snider men to make a profit from the poor I don't want to hear those vile trumpets anymore People live with a private understanding Sorrow's the wind blowing through Truth is hiding in the wire Elvis outside of Flagstaff Driving a camper van Looking for meaning in a cloud mass Sees the face of Joseph Stalin And is disheartened Then the wind changed the cloud into his smiling Lord And he was affected profoundly But he could never describe the feeling He passed away on the bathroom floor She's just trying to reach you She's just trying to reach you She's just trying to reach you She's just trying to reach you She's just trying to reach you She's just trying to reach you She's just trying to reach you She's just trying to reach you She's just trying to reach you She's just trying to reach you She's just trying to reach you She's just trying to reach you She's just trying to reach you She's just trying to reach you She's just trying to reach you She's just trying to reach you She's just trying to reach you She's just trying to reach you She's just trying to reach you