Dumb Fill The Wytches

I was waiting with my mind on you
It was pouring down and started getting late
Just then I looked to myself and I said
Well alright, this'd better help

So we started making hits to sell
Those babies just flew off the shelf

These songs are sentimental waste
They were taking their hold on me those days
When my mind was a pit where the ideas froze
Followed by some romantic drone

Until we started making hits to sell
Those babies just flew by themselves