I'm surrounded by martyrs An unknown group of famous authors Self important men with an opinion and a pen Rewriting songs the way they've always been I hear your position But the noise is much too loud I couldn't make it out Force fed the static Dressed head to toe in black Could you repeat this? Do you honestly believe this? The definition's dead So print to nonfiction A fluid guide to better diction And never leave the house Just rip the bookshelves out We'd only need the one you're writing now I fear your position But the noise is much too loud And I couldn't blame you now New social status Dressed head to toe in black Could you repeat this? Do you honestly believe it? The definition's dead What have I read? You're not just a muse You're also amusing You keep throwing bricks And I'll pretend you're building You look so confused I guess it's confusing Trying to keep score When you can't tell who is winning We print this to fiction Acquire unfair descriptions Sadly, there's something so important I can say that you will never get it right You will never write it right