"Fake My Own Death and Go Platinum"

Well you see, I wanna sell a million records
But my music sucks, so what am I to do?

They say an artist is appreciated after he's dead
I have no talent, but I bet that it's still true.

The lyrics all suck and the chords are too funky
We're on a major label cuz we're just plain lucky

We sold 4 albums to our own mothers
we have a few supporters... (but there aren't many others)

What if I could live when they all would think I'm dead?
Oh just what if I could have me a cake, and eat it too?

I'd be set for life, no more struggles, no more strife
Let the money do the talking; I'm a dead man walking.

Kill myself, and all our record sales will shoot up
like an addict, or that poser Emineim

Make it mystery and let them spot me just like Elvis
It wouldn't matter, cause I'd still be dead to them

I'd simply sit back in a house all secluded
Out in the forest, self sufficient (pool included)

Let my name take the place of Fred Durst
I could have it all, if my label doesn't kill me first.

Back to all lyrics.

"Why do you exist? FUCK!" - Most Girls