you can listen to the devil who’s right up in your ear hole

who just goes on and on and on

with the this thing sucks, this is terrible, its the end of the world.

or you can try to tune in to the angels

who whisper so delicately

and sometimes even sing

with the omg its so beautiful tony its so nice its just lovely.

of course my devil knows where to take the conversation

he says things like youre gonna go to hell, youre gonna ruin everything, youre burning all the bridges.

and the angels, because theyre polite, wait for him to finish.

but hes never finished

and youre gonna grow old alone and you already are old and your knees are starting to ache 

btw: my knees are fine, satan.

my everythings are fine.

the busblog secret of life is the same today as when this thrill ride started in 2001:

if youre listening to the devil more than the angels you better turn that dial.

and i get it, the devil has better songs, a funnier voice, and seemingly knows exactly what to say at exactly the worst time.

but the angels: they actually work with the truth.

they dont blow smoke up your bung. as if!

there is no beautiful song than the sound of honesty being delivered right from the heart.

fleetwood mac talks about sweet little lies

but fuck the mac.

three songs in 30 years is nothing to crow about.

and neither is listening too long to the most boring poem of all:

you cant

you cant

you cant

you cant.