Ghostwrite

I am limbo, waiting on a window

Stuck inside an interval

I know it's unattainable

Covered by a label's name

Labeled by geography

On a dying dark horse

Placing

I am a plagiarist

Feeble picking up a pen

Between a sonic precedent

Any age I represent

Old enough to own the store

The noise I make, like an arrogant ingrate

I'm not noteworthy for a loyalty

The forefathers who are redeemed

Most of whom I never revered

Never needed or never even heard

Emulating individuals

Cloning the new originals

Follow us for king land rituals

I am a spokesman for a derivative

Travelling salesman

Selling old narrative

True sounds of liberty

Straining through my voice

Only heard in their code

One noise

Once an introvert

Spewing my entire worth

Regurgitating their words from it

Second coming, a second strings

They're personating the real thing

The odd guys that wrote bad songs

A drug addict's dead and gone

Who wrote the song that sold my voice

Forcing to make my choices

And the name they chose for me

And the name chosen for me

Finally, here I am

Said to be made again

Posing weathered statues

Standing on old attributes

Getting sick of this

Feeling ridiculous

I'm an overtold joke's punchline

I am limbo, waiting on a window

Resonating old song

You're not so long

Scraping the bread off my forehead

At the speed of nearly dead

I never found what never made

To the sound I've already betrayed

It's the name they chose for me

It's the name they chose for me

Follow us for king land ritual