Il cesse d'être plaindre si vous êtes toujours chiant sang

Cette chanson me touche d'une manière que je ne peux même pas décrire. Néanmoins, je peux essayer.

Laura opens her mouth and I listen.
The tape would be worn out by now.
Soft and quavering, as melodic as you need.
Reaching for the spark that is impossible to reclaim, recreate, or even locate.
A brief moment of pure audible ecstasy;
I wish it were possible for anyone to caress me in the way her music does.
All the more fun because she makes it her song.

---------

"Sing the fucking songs you told the world to sing.
Sing it right unless you want to fail.
Listen back and punch the things that we don't like.
You can't do it right in just one take.

Because you aren't good enough.
You were never good enough to sing your own songs oh so perfect.

If you fuck this up, you fuck the record deal
And respect of all our famous friends.
Drift too far and it is inaccessible.
Do it right! We worked as hard as you.

And we didn't come this far
For you to fuck this up and fuck our whole lives.

So write some songs with fucking hooks
Remember why you wrote songs in the first place.
Let's start a band.
This is all that you can do.

Cut the cookie. Five sharp points to make a star.
Cut the corners, get the biggest tours.
Traffic violations mean bad credit now.
Twenty triple zeroes in the hole.

And it wouldn't be so bad.
If we crashed the fucking van and watch our fucking debt go up in flames.

You know, it wouldn't be so bad.
If we just threw up our hands instead of feeding something
I did not want to create.
Your underground is a mistake.

So write one song without a hook.
Remember why you wrote songs in the first place.
Not for the band
You opened up for yesterday.

So write a song without a hook.
Remember why you wrote songs in the first place.
Not for a guy
Who runs a fucking focus group."