Don't Want

i don’t want to pay a publicist to like me
i don’t want to ask a journalist to write nice things about me
i don’t want to beg my friends to come to my next show
i don’t want to paste my stupid face on stupid clothes
 
i just want to write a song that saves the world or pays my rent
when chasing your dreams turns to chasing your tail
you start asking yourself where the hell all the time went
 
i don’t want to shake a hand and fake my admiration
i don’t want to stoke or fan the flames of my frustration
i don’t want to envy when my friends enjoy successes
or provide for free bits of me just to see who it impresses
 
i don’t want to be negative i’ll quit my bellyaching
i don’t want to second guess my purpose or decision making
i don’t want the past or future to chase me up a tree
if i stay here in this moment, maybe my dreams might chase me