The Process Lyrics - Singles - Patrick Goble

Holy fucking shit! He wrote another fucking song 

Why does he keep on writing them when hope has long been gone? 

He may not be Gaga, Miley, Jackson, or the King 

But let me tell you why this bearded fuck has got to sing 

Twenty-four/seven, 3-6-5 days of the year 

In his mind the music plays 'a blasting in his ears 

A-B-C-D-E-F-G, the notes now play themselves 

And on the staff, the notes they dance like bearded fucking elves 

It's just his process, how he makes himself/(sense of) this wreck 

It's just his process. Send him a motherfucking check 

It's just his process, how he makes himself/(sense of) this wreck 

It's just his process. Send him a motherfucking check 

He'll write a fucking song for every dick that's ever lived 

Pop, blues, rock, funk, dance, and trancethe man just wants to give 

Now open up your ears to him, you silly fucking sod 

And blast his jams from noon till night so loud you'll wake up God 

Early in the morn when normal folks are getting up 

He's pounding keys and riding strings like monster fucking truck 

Eighth notes on his Cheerios and quarters in his tonic 

He's regular like fiber man and shits a philharmonic 

Twenty-four/seven, 3-6-5 days of the year 

In his mind the music plays 'a blasting in his ears 

A-B-C-D-E-F-G, the notes now play themselves 

And on the staff, the notes they dance like bearded fucking elves 

Holy fucking shit! He wrote another fucking song 

Why does he keep on writing them when hope has long been gone? 

He may not be Gaga, Miley, Jackson, or the King 

But let me tell you why this bearded fuck has got to sing 

It's just his process, how he makes himself/(sense of) this wreck 

It's just his process. Send him a motherfucking check 

It's just his process, how he makes himself/(sense of) this wreck 

It's just his process. Send him a motherfucking check