A Song For The Metalheads Lyrics - Sycamore Meadows - Butch Walker

1...9...6...9 

Press the tape recorder, let's get this all down real fast 

Before the insignificant thought goes by 

There's one more slow song left to write for the record 

To make all the metalheads cry 

I throw rocks but not rocking, stand there just mocking 

With hands in their armpits that they'll later smell 

When you live in the past, there's one thing that will last 

Is resentment that time won't sit still 

The record business is fucked, it's kinda funny 

It'll separate a boy from a man 

You can buy every copy of your record with your money 

But you'd be your only fan 

If it's one thing my father said when he was younger 

To a kid with a mullet who looked like his son 

To want and to try is the difference why 

Some people will walk and some run (Thank you Dad) 

Sharpen up all your pencils, cause class will come early 

There's so much you thought that you knew 

While the B List celebrities all pay for their fame 

They'll soak up what's left of the pool 

While a kid in the corner becomes a savant 

No one will care till he's dead 

Or he falls from his grace with it all over the place 

And a piece of it stuck in his head 

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