Lời bài hát
(Verse 1)
Adam, oh Adam, the twenty-four-year-old bard,
With a degree in English, playing a losing hand, hard.
Living at home, with step-sisters and mom so kind,
While dreams of literary greatness slowly unwind.
Four years for two essays, a poem a year's toil,
Your output's a trickle, a literary spoil.
You claim mental anguish, a post-grad despair,
But more time's on Minecraft than in a writer's chair.
(Chorus)
Oh, the irony stings, a philosopher's plight,
Stuck in creative mode, avoiding the fight.
A teacher's lineage, a path you could tread,
But you'd rather whine online, filling your head
With fantasies grand, and LOTR lore,
While real-world success slams shut the door.
(Verse 2)
You mock the AI, its unoriginal art,
But your own creations barely make a start.
Sarcastic quips and twitch-lingo so cool,
The refuge of a lonely, keyboard-bound fool.
Hardcore Minecraft's a menace, you claim with a frown,
While ball lightning stories make you cower and drown
In fear of the electric, the ghostly unknown,
But facing a job search, you'd rather postpone.
(Chorus)
Oh, the irony stings, a philosopher's plight,
Stuck in creative mode, avoiding the fight.
A teacher's lineage, a path you could tread,
But you'd rather whine online, filling your head
With fantasies grand, and LOTR lore,
While real-world success slams shut the door.
(Bridge)
You ponder romance, a hopeless romantic's quest,
While living at home, putting love to the test.
No hope, you declare, yet yearn for the touch,
A contradiction clear, meaning not so much.
(Chorus)
Oh, the irony stings, a philosopher's plight,
Stuck in creative mode, avoiding the fight.
A teacher's lineage, a path you could tread,
But you'd rather whine online, filling your head
With fantasies grand, and LOTR lore,
While real-world success slams shut the door.
(Outro)
So Adam, oh Adam, your future's unclear,
A symphony of excuses, year after year.
Wake up from your slumber, embrace the real day,
Or forever in mom's basement, you'll surely stay.